


Shadow Line

by DisasterCat



Series: Infinity Mirror [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra Gets a Hug, F/F, Horde Adora (She-Ra), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulation, POV Adora (She-Ra), POV Catra (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-05-20 13:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterCat/pseuds/DisasterCat
Summary: 'Catra lifted her face into the night breeze and breathed deeply. The air under the trees was clean and wet; the smell of bark and old leaves and rich new life springing from death surrounded her. Her ears twitched to take in the mysterious drips and creaks and birdsongs of the night forest, so different from the rough hum of Horde machinery, or the soft, regular breathing of—She shut her eyes tightly, missing the feel of wind against her face and the freeing rush of forward motion afforded by the skiff.She had to keep moving, lest she drown in memory.'Leaving a place is one thing. Leaving your past is quite another. Catra ventures back into the Whispering Woods, and Adora struggles to fulfill her destiny as She-Ra.Feelings ensue.Picks up immediately after the events of Part One - Infinity Mirror.





	1. Diffuse Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! Part Two is here!  
> Thank you to all the folks who left such lovely comments on Part One - I wasn't able to respond to most of you, but I do sincerely appreciate what y'all had to say.  
> Also, if for some reason you're here and you haven't read Part One... do that. Otherwise this will be somewhat confusing.  
> Anyway, here's chapter one - enjoy!

A speck of orange dust caught in Catra’s throat. She repressed a cough and told herself that was the reason her eyes watered – that, and the dry wind that rushed into her face, through her hair, as the stolen skiff sped her away from everything she’d ever known.

She lifted damp eyes towards the sky, to the three moons that had witnessed her last moments with—

Her last moments in the Fright Zone.

She dropped her gaze to the thick, dark horizon line that was the Whispering Woods. She was approaching them quickly – already she could make out the twisted shapes of trees, already she could catch their musky scent on the rapidly dampening air.

_Nearly there. Nearly out._

_Nearly free._

Finally, the skiff slid out of moonlight into the gentle shadows under the trees, and Catra let out a long breath as muscles she hadn’t realized she’d tensed relaxed.

_The hardest part is over._

_Right?_

The skiff shuddered to a stop. She clung to the rudder as the vehicle took a nose dive directly into a large tree root, and she hung there breathing quietly as she listened to the whir of the engine die.

_Out of fuel._

Catra leapt to the soft, mossy ground and contemplated the skiff for a moment.

_Probably better to abandon it, anyway, especially if anyone’s tracking me._

She wondered briefly if anyone would come after her. She wasn’t sure anyone cared.

She wasn’t sure anyone who cared would be able to.

She lifted her face into the night breeze and breathed deeply. The air under the trees was clean and wet; the smell of bark and old leaves and rich new life springing from death surrounded her. Her ears twitched to take in the mysterious drips and creaks and birdsongs of the night forest, so different from the rough hum of Horde machinery, or the soft, regular breathing of—

She shut her eyes tightly, missing the feel of wind against her face and the freeing rush of forward motion afforded by the skiff. Suddenly, with a tense and shaking hand, she reached up and tore the stiff headguard from her brow, hurled it into the undergrowth and let her wild mane fall over her face. She looked down to the Horde insignia at her belt and ripped the buckle off. Hesitantly, she brought her hand to her arm, brushed over the spot where Hordak’s wings were burned permanently into her skin. A memory came to her unbidden – gentle fingers delicately tracing the raised red welts of the new brand, the deep pools of two worried blue eyes, a quiet voice:

_‘I’m sorry she hurt you.’_

Catra bit her lip, hard. She couldn’t do this, not now, couldn’t stop to think of the years of pain and frustration she had left behind, couldn’t think of what might have happened after she’d soared over the high launch causeway from the skiff bay. She had to keep moving forward, lest she drown in memory.

She turned and tore roughly up the nearest tree, the claws on her hands and feet biting wonderfully into the fragrant bark as she climbed. She went as high as she could, pausing only briefly to survey the several moons now floating luminous in the night sky before she leapt wildly to the branches of another tree. She savored the blissful moment her body was suspended in the varied moonlight, completely unencumbered by the strictures of gravity. She landed lightly and immediately sprang again. She kept moving, letting the wind whip her hair back and ruffle her fur, the branches around her blurred by her own free movement. As she leapt, she let out a wild yowl, her voice reverberating through the trees, adding her own sound to the whispers of the forest.

She refused to think of what she’d left behind.

She had never felt so clean.

**

Catra whipped through the treetops, heedless of her direction, until she was exhausted. She collapsed onto a thick, high branch, breath heavy and muscles twitching, and, uncaring, closed her eyes and sank into a deep sleep.

She didn’t sleep nearly as long as she had expected to, waking instead in predawn light to a cacophony of birdsong and the insistent rumbling of her own stomach. She sat up on the branch and rested her back against the tree’s trunk, running her fingers through her hair as she berated herself.

 _Idiot. You couldn’t have stopped to steal some rations or a weapon or, I don’t know, literally_ anything _you needed to survive out here?_

She sighed as her stomach growled again.

At that moment something chirped and rustled in the leaves just below her. In seconds she was crouched on all fours, eyes wide and ears pricked forward, as some feral instinct took over. With one quick pounce, she had a fat bird in her hands.

_Now, if I can just remember how to start a fire without a lighter…_

Soon she was well on her way to a good breakfast.  

**

Catra kept moving and lost track of the days. During daylight hours she napped in the tree canopy or hunted for her next meal. By night she tore wildly through the high branches, bathed in moonlight, yowling in defiance of gravity and wasted years. Her feet barely touched the ground over the course of what must of have been weeks. She was all body and no thought, all movement and no heart – or, at least, she tried to be.

She forgot what it was like to speak.

She forgot what it was like to be touched.

She was wonderfully free and utterly alone.

Once, she uncovered two doves nestled tightly together. They lifted their heads to stare up at her, innocent and unafraid. Their open, trusting faces and the soft blue-gray of their sleek backs reminded her of—

The doves were delicious.

**

For the first time in her life, Catra trusted shadows. Here, in the woods, darkness was her ally – her cover as she hunted her dinner, her protection as she hid, unmoving, from the Woods’ larger creatures that might hunt her. Shadows here were gentle and slow - they enveloped her softly and painlessly. They did not wrap around her ribs and _squeeze_. They did not whisper to her that she was weak, did not—

But she had escaped all of that, which meant she didn’t have to feel it anymore, which meant she could instead thrust it deep into the darkest corner of her mind.

Darkness, after all, was her ally now.

And if that corner filled to overflowing? Emptying it – emptying herself – was simply a matter of tossing herself from one treetop to the next, screaming wordlessly into the night.

**

One afternoon as she lounged half-dozing on a high, sunny branch, she caught an unfamiliar sound from below her. She had to climb down several branches (after stretching thoroughly, of course) and twist her ears to and fro before she realized that the sound she had not recognized was a voice – two voices.

Catra had not encountered a single person since leaving her old life behind. It hadn’t exactly been intentional, but she half-wondered if the rumors about the Whispering Woods moving of their own accord were true, and if they were shifting sympathetically to keep her free and alone.

She climbed down another branch, swiveled her ears again, and realized that she knew these voices.

“Come on, Glimmer, don’t be so hard on yourself. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Are you kidding me? It was a total disaster!”

_The sparkly princess and the archer._

She should slip away, make her way back up to the highest branches so they wouldn’t find her.

She stepped silently down to a closer branch.

She could see them now, bright and unmistakable in their customary white and purple, respectively. They had already passed beneath her branch and were moving away from her.

Catra slipped quietly into the next tree, following behind them and listening intently.

Glimmer had her hands over her face and tangible frustration in her voice. “Why did Princess Mermista have to be so mean?”

“I don’t think she was mean, just… extremely unenthusiastic?”

“Stop making excuses for her, Bow. She doesn’t deserve it.” Catra leapt to a new tree as Glimmer raised her voice in mocking imitation of the other princess, “‘What has Brightmoon ever done for us?’ Seriously?! The whole _reason_ we were _there_ was to offer her an alliance!”

Bow sighed. “I guess the memory of the old Princess Alliance really puts some people off.”

“Just because our parents couldn’t make it work doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Why can’t anyone see that?”

“Uh, speaking of parents, how are we going to explain this to your mom? I mean, she specifically told us not to go to Salineas to recruit Mermista.”

Glimmer’s voice went up at least an octave, “I don’t know, Bow. We’ll have to figure something out.” They both took a few quiet steps as they passed under the branch where Catra now crouched. Glimmer spoke up again, “Do we have to explain it at all? Maybe she didn’t even notice we were gone.” Bow gave her a look. “Ugh, fine, you’re right, she always notices.”

“Whatever we’re going to tell her, we should come up with it soon. I’d rather not camp in the woods again.” Bow gulped. “Did you hear that animal caterwauling last night?”

Catra grinned as Glimmer shivered. “Yeah, how could I not?”

“So let’s get back to Brightmoon. If we walk fast, we should make it there before dark.”

They increased their pace, and Catra followed.

She knew she should take this opportunity to head in the opposite direction. These people moved through a world in which she didn’t exist anymore – one with a war, with princesses, with Force Captains.

But she couldn’t tear herself away from them. Not just yet. There was something comforting in hearing people talk again, in being near them, even if these two didn’t know she was there.

Catra hadn’t realized she was quite this lonely.

As she followed them, listening to their friendly, inconsequential bickering, she felt something cracking inside her, and a memory slipped through.

_‘Don’t be scared, Catra. It was just a story.’_

_‘I’m not scared!’_

_Their bunk in the junior cadet’s barracks shifts beneath them – it is after lights out, all the other children long asleep, and Catra has curled herself into a tight, defensive ball._

_‘Then why is your tail all fluffy?’_

_Catra ignores the question, choosing to nitpick instead. ‘It was a dumb story, anyway. If the princess is headless, then how does she even find the people she’s gonna kill? She’s got no eyes and no nose and no_ brain, _dummy!’_

_There is a moment of silent consideration._

_‘I don’t know. That’s how Shadow Weaver told it to me.’_

_‘Then Shadow Weaver told you a dumb story.’_

_But Catra’s fur still stands on end, and her small body refuses to relax, until there comes a soft giggle from beside her, and two arms, so young but already strong and sure, wrap around her shoulders._

_‘Don’t worry, Catra. I’ll protect you.’_

_‘…Thanks, Adora.’_

_Adora_

_Adora_

_Adora_

“Do you hear that?” The archer’s voice snapped her attention back to the present. A low growl had built in Catra’s chest while she was paralyzed by the rogue memory. She cut off the sound so forcefully that her throat ached from the sudden constriction.

“It’s coming from up there – hang on.”

Catra was blinded as the princess materialized in a puff of light virtually on top of her.

“Aaaah!” Glimmer was as surprised as she was. Catra hissed and struck out with her claws before losing track of her body as she was caught in the princess’ second, panicked teleport.

Her atoms came hurtling back together on the forest floor. She rolled away from the princess, who was still yelling, and struggled to right herself. The sudden fragmentation and reconstitution of her body left Catra disoriented, and she staggered up unsteadily. Before she could turn, something hit her square in the back, and she found herself on the ground again, tangled tightly in a net.

“Whoo! Nice shooting, Bow.”

“Thanks, Glimmer. But maybe give me a little more warning before you teleport directly into danger?”

“You should know by now that’s probably not going to happen.”

Catra hissed and thrashed in her bonds. Her hands were caught awkwardly behind her back – her claws were useless.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” said Bow, approaching slowly, “We’re not gonna…” He stopped short in surprise. “It’s you!”

Catra growled in response. He stepped closer.

“Be careful, Bow!”

“But she saved us last time!”

Glimmer put a hand on his arm, “And we still have no idea why.” Catra thrashed again. “Besides, she doesn’t seem too friendly at the moment.”

Bow knelt. He was so close that if her hands had been free, Catra could have scratched his eyes out. “Hey,” his tone was calm and gentle, “What’s your name again?”

Catra stilled.

She didn’t owe these people anything, not even her name. And yet, she found that she wanted to answer him – wanted to speak herself back into existence.

She narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth. “Catra.”

It came out as croaking whisper.

She coughed and tried again. “ _Catra_.” It burst from her with force this time.

“Catra.” His voice was still soft. “I’m Bow, and this is Glimmer.” He paused and looked her over. She could imagine what he saw – her hair a wild tangle, uniform dusty and ripped. “What… happened to you?”

She glared at him. That was not a question she wanted to answer.

Glimmer let out an exasperated sigh, “It doesn’t matter, Bow. Let’s just hurry back to Brightmoon. You know wherever she is, the _other one_ can’t be far behind.”

Catra couldn’t help but laugh as she realized what Glimmer meant.

_Adora_

_Adora_

_Adora_

“Um,” gulped Bow, giving her a sidelong look as she cackled. “That’s… unsettling.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Glimmer pinched the bridge of her nose, then brought her hand down abruptly. "Actually, this is great!”

“What? Why?”

“Think about it, Bow. We have a _prisoner_. Mom can’t get mad about us going to Salineas if we bring her a Horde captain.”

Catra twitched with a mixture of bitterness and surprise. “I’m not.”

The Rebels both looked down at her.

“I’m not a Force Captain.”

_I was never a Force Captain._

“It doesn’t matter,” spat Glimmer, “A Horde spy is a Horde spy. Whatever your rank is, you’ll have to answer for the Horde’s crimes.”

“I don’t know, Glimmer.” Bow looked down at Catra with concern. “She actually… Looks like maybe she needs our help? Plus she’s saved us more than once – Do we really have to take her prisoner?”

“She was spying on us from the trees!”

“Still…”

Glimmer put a hand to her head in frustration. “Look, Bow, the Rebellion needs a win, and we need to get my mom off our backs for going to Salineas. Let’s just take her back to Brightmoon.” She turned her focus back to Catra. “On your feet, Horde scum.”

Catra narrowed her eyes and dug her hip into the ground.

_If they’re aren’t going to listen to me, they can drag me to Brightmoon._

To Catra’s immense satisfaction (despite a few bumps and bruises), it took them an entire additional day and night of travel to do just that.

**

Catra half hoped that the princess would have to drag her through the halls of Brightmoon, as well, but the moment they reached the castle grounds, Glimmer teleported her into a shining hall filled with sunlight and the startled murmurs of guards and courtiers. Once she got her bearings after the sudden teleport, Catra stood.

“Oh _now_ your legs work?” Glimmer muttered between clenched teeth. Catra bared her fangs in a savage grin. “You are a nightmare.”

“Commander Glimmer,” intoned a low, bell-like voice from slightly above them, “What is the meaning of this? And where have you been?”

Catra looked up to see a thin, pastel-hued woman with gossamer wings sitting on a high throne.

That’s _Queen Angella? The big bad of the Rebellion? She looks like a strong breeze could knock her over._

“M—Your Majesty,” said Glimmer, bowing quickly, “Bow and I have been patrolling in the Whispering Woods, and we apprehended this Horde spy just outside Brightmoon.” She tugged roughly on the lead rope tied to the netting wrapped around Catra’s body. Catra leaned backwards in retaliation, her weight nearly causing the princess to lose her balance and fall. Unfortunately, Bow, who had been left to make his own way to the throne room, joined them at precisely that moment and steadied his friend before Glimmer tumbled over. She glared at Catra, who stuck out her tongue.

The Queen descended the floating steps from her throne. As she approached, Catra rethought her first assessment. The woman towered over them, her wings casting purple shadows on the pale floor. Her face was stern.

Catra tensed instinctively.

“A Horde spy…” The Queen surveyed her, eyes clearly catching at the spot on her arm where the ropes failed to conceal the brand of Hordak’s winged insignia. Her face hardened, and Catra stared up at her defiantly. “What were you doing near Brightmoon?”

“Spying, obviously. At least that’s what Sparkles over here decided.”

Glimmer cleared her throat. “She was watching us from the trees. This captain has also been involved in every major Horde assault over the past few months, including the attack on Plumeria.”

“Where she saved our lives…” muttered Bow from behind her. Glimmer and Angella seemed to ignore him, turning instead to Catra.

“Well,” said Angella, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Catra growled. “I already told _her_ , I’m not a Force Captain. I _was_ a Lieutenant. And I’m not even that, now.”

The look of confusion on Glimmer’s face was delightful. “Huh? But you— you’re—”

Catra let her sputter for a few more seconds before adding, “I’m not with the Horde.”

Bow gasped. “I _knew_ there was something different about you!”

The Queen closed her eyes, exasperated. “Commander Glimmer, do you mean to tell me that you took a prisoner of war without first ascertaining that she was _actually_ an enemy combatant?”

Glimmer’s face had turned a bright red, whether from anger or embarrassment, Catra wasn’t sure. “But—But we _know_ she’s a Horde soldier! And she’s always with that other Horde Captain – the one with the sword who attacked Plumeria!”

_Adora_

_Adora_

_Adora_

Catra shook her head to get Adora out of it.

“Actually,” Catra found that she had missed using her voice as she put on her most innocent tone to address the Queen. “The princess seemed way more concerned about taking me prisoner to distract you from the fact that they went someplace called Salineas.”

The Queen looked sharply at her daughter, and Catra grinned again as Glimmer scowled and shot her another furious glare. Bow looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Glimmer?” The Queen’s tone was imperious.

“Relax, Mom. It’s not a big deal. We just… _visited_ Princess Mermista… to see how she was doing.” The Queen raised an eyebrow. “And to see if she wanted to join an alliance,” Glimmer finished quickly.

Catra’s ears pricked forward with interest as the Queen’s wings expanded in frustration. Her fur prickled with the anticipation of danger as Angella next spoke, her words slow and measured, “I explicitly ordered you _not_ to do that.”

“Ok, fine, I get it. I messed up. Can we talk about this later?”

Catra was impressed. She observed the way one of Angella’s eyes twitched, the angry curl of her wingtips. Glimmer was either very stupid or very confident in her ability to teleport – she wasn’t even watching for her mother’s first strike.

It never came.

Instead the Queen sighed, rearranged her wings, and turned back to Catra. “My question still stands. Even if you are no longer part of the Horde, what were you doing near Brightmoon?”

Bow gasped again, and his eyes went wide and liquid with hope, “Are you defecting?”

The anger that spiked through Catra’s center was reassuring in its familiarity. “ _NO_. Why does everyone think I want to join your stupid Rebellion?”

Bow, Glimmer, and the Queen stared at her, clearly taken aback by the vehemence with which she’d spoken. She lowered her ears and looked away. “I just… I don’t want any of it, ok? I’m not fighting for the Horde or for the Rebellion. I just want to be left alone.”

“Then why were you watching us in the Whispering Woods? And why did you let us escape in Plumeria?” Bow asked.

Catra was silent. She didn’t know how to answer those questions, not without breaking herself open entirely, and she was not going to let all her pain and rot ooze out here on the spotless floors of Brightmoon for the princesses to see.

“Regardless of what you say you want,” said the Queen, “I must consider your history and the practicalities of this situation. You’re either with the Rebellion, or you’re against us.”

Catra growled deep in her throat. She refused to be backed into a corner like this, refused to have someone else’s decisions forced on her.

_Not again._

“I don’t like those options,” she spat.

Catra and the Queen glared at each other for an unflinching moment.

“How can we trust anything you say?” demanded Glimmer. “You fought for the Horde, you hurt people.” She gestured to Catra’s arm. “You were apparently loyal enough to have the Horde’s symbol burned into your skin, so why should we believe that you aren’t against the Rebellion?”

The laugh that escaped Catra left a bitter taste in her mouth. The Rebels stared at her again. “Wow,” she said, “It’s cute how you think that brand is a sign of loyalty rather than ownership.” Bow’s mouth dropped open, and Glimmer was shocked into silence.

Queen Angella recovered more quickly, “Commander Glimmer is right.” The princess let out a surprised squeak. “We cannot take the risk of letting you wander free. You will be placed in a cell until the Rebellion can decide what to do with you. Guards!” Catra hissed as rough hands grasped her shoulders.

“Mom—” Glimmer began, and her face had softened slightly with uncertainty.

“And you, Glimmer, come with me. We need to discuss your excursion to Salineas.”

Bow met Catra’s eyes with a worried glance as the guards hauled her out of the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, this fic... is long. It just kept growing. I can tell you now, already, that this story won't end in Part Two, but will instead stretch into a (slightly shorter) third part.


	2. Cast Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bow continues to be the best boy.  
> Catra is a prickly prisoner, and has a lot of flashbacks.  
> Glimmer's got lots of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha-HAH! Look at me not making you all wait a month and a half for an update while I nitpick over like my 33rd revision!
> 
> Damn ya'll are really latching onto that "Catra Gets a Hug" tag, huh?  
> Don't worry, she will get several hugs (literal and metaphorical) relatively soon.  
> That being said, this is still an angsty fic (sorry! It looks like Part Three is gonna be more uplifting, though!). These two still gotta lot of shit to wade through.
> 
> So... gird your loins I guess?
> 
> Also, this chapter is long.

Like everything else in Brightmoon, Catra’s cell was flooded with sunlight. A broad window set high in the back wall cast the light forward to reflect off the silvery bars. Catra was surprised when the guards untied her, dumped her in the cell, and left.

_Seriously? They’re just going to leave me here unsupervised? With only bars to keep me in? When was the last time they upgraded their security?_

Catra grinned gleefully.

_They don’t even have a force field on this cell. I should be out of here in no time._

She grasped the shining bars near the hinges of the door and tugged experimentally, only to feel a sudden, painful flash of heat through her fingers. She snatched her hands back and shook them, placed a finger back on the silver metal to feel the same heat once more. Her ears drooped.

_I hate magic._

Catra paced.

It seemed like months since there was a roof over her head and walls on every side.

It was oppressive.

The forward momentum she’d mindlessly maintained since she leapt onto the skiff was coming to a crashing halt in this bright prison cell. She couldn’t escape the memories that began to crowd between the bars.

_‘Catra, help me up.’_

The cold weight of the sword in her hand. The way it shimmered in the moonlight as it fell to the dust. The confusion melting into disbelief on Adora’s face.

The sear of the brand. The heat of Adora’s lips, and of her arms, safe and constricting. The skin of Adora’s back, of her cheek, tearing under her claws.

All the ways she hurt. All the ways she hurt back.

_‘Catra don’t do this.’_

Catra growled and swiped violently at the wall of the cell. The jarring screech of her claws against stone brought her back into her body, and she started as an unexpected voice came from the door of the cell.

“Woah, careful there. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She whipped around and snarled at Bow where he stood, small tray in hand, on the other side of the bars.

He smiled nervously. “Here, I brought you some food.” He knelt and slid the tray through a slot in the bars by the floor. Catra eyed him, and his offering, distrustfully. He cleared his throat. “It’s fish. I thought you might like it.”

Catra took a hesitant step forward and sniffed the air. The moment the salty fragrance of the fish hit her nostrils, her stomach growled loudly and unmistakably. She grimaced as Bow’s mouth twitched into a smile, and she stalked forward to take the food. She retreated with it to a corner of the cell and turned her back towards him.

_This definitely beats the brown sludge they serve in the Fright Zone._

She took a bite, widened her eyes at the unfamiliar but extremely pleasant taste of butter and herbs.

_And the half-cooked birds I catch in the woods._

“So…”

_Ugh, he’s still here._

“Thanks for saving us,” Bow finished.

Catra turned slightly towards him and carefully swallowed the mouthful she was chewing, lest any of her sarcasm be lost, and said, “Don’t mention it.”

He was still standing at the bars, as if waiting for something. Catra decided he would probably be more uncomfortable if she stared directly at him instead of ignoring him, and she swung around to face him fully. It seemed to work, as he forced a laugh into the awkward silence that followed.

“Ummmm,” Bow drew out the syllable while he searched for something to say. “What happened to that thing you wear on your head?” She raised an eyebrow. “That mask or headpiece or whatever. It kinda seemed like your _thing_.”

Catra chewed slowly before answering, “Didn’t want it anymore.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you still here? Are you supposed to be guarding me or something?”

“Oh… No… I thought you might be lonely, so I came to keep you company.”

_Seriously? This is either the worst security protocol or the most misguided attempt to get information from me._

“I’m fine. Don’t you remember that time an hour ago when I said I wanted to be left alone?”

“Suuuuuuure. So you can keep punching walls in peace?”

“I didn’t punch the— ugh. You know what? This conversation is not worth my time.” She shoved her now-empty tray towards the bars and turned her back to him again. She heard him shift his weight from foot to foot a few times.

“Anyway…” he continued, “I really liked your headpiece. I think it looked cool.” Catra rolled her eyes, trusting that even though he couldn’t see her face, he would nevertheless be able to feel her disdain. He didn’t stop talking, though. “I’ve always wanted a cool hat, but Glimmer says I couldn’t pull it off with this outfit.”

Catra swiveled an ear towards him slowly, slid her body to follow it. “Does she do that often – make your decisions for you?”

_Maybe I can turn this to my advantage. Or at least cause these idiots a little chaos._

Bow let out a short laugh. “Of course not. I mean, Glimmer does have some pretty strong opinions, and she can be really stubborn, but we’re a team!”

“Right,” Catra stood and sauntered closer to the bars, “You seemed like _such_ a team back in the woods when she ignored everything you were saying about me.” She cocked her head, “Don’t you get tired of her telling you what to do all the time?”

He quirked his eyebrows in confusion.

“Hm.” She turned away again. “You will. Trust me.”

“Look, Catra, I see what you’re saying, but Glimmer and I are best friends – we would never do anything to hurt each other.”

Catra imagined Adora’s fingers slipping from the causeway girding, her body buffeted by wind as she tumbled down, down, down.

“Come on,” Bow was still talking, “Surely even the Fright Zone has friends. What about that girl you were with in the woods? The one with the sword? You called her your friend back then.”

Catra’s hiss was half-hearted, but it did seem to shut him up. She realized that her ears had drooped, and her tail was curled defensively around her ankles.

_‘I’m just trying to look out for you, like I promised.’_

“Didn’t want her anymore.” She sat down, and sighed as Bow followed suit on his side of the bars. “What are you doing?”

“We don’t have to talk, ok? I’ll go if you want, but I still think you could use some company.”

She blinked at him for a few seconds before curling up on the sunny floor to take a nap.

She didn’t tell him to leave.

She listened closely to the unfamiliar rhythm of his breathing and let it lull her to sleep.

**

Catra was woken some time later by a flash of light and the tinkling sound of Glimmer’s teleport.

“Bow,” Glimmer exhaled long and loud. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why are you down here?”

Catra kept her eyes closed, but twitched an ear surreptitiously in their direction.

“I was just keeping Catra company.” He paused, “Although she did fall asleep a little while ago, and I’ve just kinda been here watching her, which I guess is actually pretty creepy.”

“Why, Bow? She’s our prisoner and a Horde officer _._ It’s not like you need to be nice to her.”

“Glimmer,” Catra heard the scrape of Bow’s boots as he shifted in his spot on the floor. “She said she wasn’t with the Horde anymore. I mean look at her… She doesn’t have any weapons, and all of her Horde stuff is gone, except, well, her arm…”

Bow and Glimmer were both silent for a moment.

“We can’t trust her, Bow. It would be just like the Horde to send one of their own into our territory with some story about how they left the Fright Zone for good. She probably just wants to get our sympathy so she can murder us all in our sleep.”

“But what about when she saved us in Plumeria?”

Glimmer sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe that was all part of this plan, too.”

“I mean, she’s not exactly _nice,_ but I don’t think she’s some evil mastermind.”

“We just can’t let our guard down. Not after everything the Horde has done to us, the people we’ve lost.” Glimmer’s voice broke, and she sniffled.

_Is she crying? Right out here where anyone could see her?_

After a few moments of quiet sniffling, Glimmer spoke again, “Anyway, my mom was super mad about the Salineas thing. I’m grounded again.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“I just wish she would take me seriously for once. She shoots down all of my ideas. Why did she even make me a Commander if she’s not going to listen to me?”

Catra suppressed a snicker.

_Why would she listen to such a naïve, sniveling little girl?_

Catra was briefly sucked into a memory of Adora’s tearstained face the night after they destroyed Thaymor.

When she managed to claw her way back from the feel of Adora’s head resting against her chest, they were still talking.

“Rebuilding the Princess Alliance is a good plan, Glimmer. You just have to keep trying. Sooner or later your mom will see what a great Commander you are.”

“Thanks, Bow.” Glimmer’s voice was still wet with tears.

“And hey,” Bow continued, “We’ll convince the other princesses to form the Alliance soon enough. Perfuma’s on board if we can get somebody else to join first.”

“Yeah, but recruiting Mermista was _such_ a bust.” Glimmer’s voice darkened. “And of course Perfuma says she might join now – after the Horde has taken over her kingdom and she’s got no powers.”

“True, it would’ve been great if she’d come around sooner. But she is grateful to Brightmoon for giving her people refuge after they were forced to leave Plumeria. I think she honestly wants to help but isn’t quite sure how. She said something about the universe leading her here to us?”

Glimmer sighed. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“See? We just need to keep trying.” Bow’s voice brightened dramatically. “You’re _Glimmer –_ you never give up!”

Glimmer chuckled. “You’re right. If the two of us work together, the other princesses will have to see that rebuilding the Alliance is the right move. Thanks for always having my back, Bow.”

“Anytime.”

_This is really starting to make me sick._

Their optimism was so fragile, and they were leaning on it so heavily, that really, they were begging for Catra to shatter it.

She laughed, eliciting a surprised shriek from the Rebels, and turned over onto her back, crossing her arms behind her head and nonchalantly flicking her tail to and fro. “Wow, you guys are terrible at this.”

Bow and Glimmer’s voices came in chorus. “Huh?”

Catra sat up. “You know, back in the Horde they always told us that the princesses were these terrifying monsters. But you’re not.” Catra stood and basked for a moment at the looks of open confusion on their faces. Bow’s was even tinged with something like hope. She sauntered forward, sharpened her tone. “You’re pathetic. You’re weak. You think that the power of love and friendship will save you?” She grasped the bars, felt the burn of their magic as she pressed her face towards Glimmer. “That means nothing to the Horde. They’re coming for you, and you don’t stand a chance. You’re never going to win.”

Glimmer didn’t shatter. She did not crumple into a blubbering mess as Catra expected. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and met Catra’s challenge, leaning in as well until their faces were inches apart.

“So what,” she said, and there was no trace of tears in her voice now, “The Horde sent you here to insult us? Obviously you don’t know anything about friendship or love—all you do is hurt people.”

Adora’s hands slipping. A plume of dust in the Fright Zone soil from her impact.

_But that didn’t happen. I can’t know if that happened. Adora’s strong. She could save herself._

The raw look of hurt on Adora’s face as Catra stepped away from the ledge. The angry red lines on her skin in the pattern of Catra’s claws.

_Those are real._

Without realizing it, Catra had stepped away from the bars, her ears lowered and her tail curled downwards. Glimmer and Bow stared at her.

“You’re not wrong.” She said, softly.

There was another silence, broken by Bow. “Catra… What—”

Glimmer interrupted him. “Come on Bow. We’ve wasted enough time here already.” She put a hand to his shoulder and they were gone in a twinkling of light.

Catra sat in a corner of her cell and scratched idly at the wall with one claw.

_She’s not wrong._

**

_‘I took you in when no one else wanted you, and this is how you repay me?’_

No.

No. No.

Catra did not want this memory. She did not want it to be a part of her. She paced wildly in her cell, trying to get out of her own head.

It didn’t work.

_She is a child. Too young to be a junior cadet. Too young to have a rank._

It was one of her earliest memories – so long ago that, usually, she managed not to think about it.

_She is a child. More hair than person. Soft and round as her playmate Adora. But Adora is not here._

_Shadow Weaver is here. She is so tall. She is so angry. She is making the air go dark around them._

_Catra crouches on the floor by the ruins of an ornate box. She tries to piece it back together. She tries to gather its contents._

She could never remember where the memory took place, or how she got the box. Only that she broke it and Shadow Weaver caught her. She had never tried to remember more. Generally, she tried to remember less.

_‘I’m sorry,’ she lisps, desperately, ‘I didn’t mean to.’ She picks up a small golden badge, some kind of four-pointed star. The air gets even darker as long, cold fingers snatch the object out of her small hands._

_‘Don’t touch that!’ Shadow Weaver gathers the rest of her spilled trinkets as well and secrets them somewhere in her shifting robes. ‘It’s no wonder I found you abandoned as a baby. Who could want an ungrateful little monster like you?’_

_‘Please,’ Catra stands. ‘I said I’m sorry.’ And there is a magic word she has wanted to try ever since she heard another child cry it out – a magic word that made a grown-up person pick you up and hold you close and safe and maybe even made them love you._

_‘Please, Mama…’_

_For the first time in her life she is paralyzed by magic. It crackles red around her. It stings as her muscles tighten. Her heart races as Shadow Weaver leans down to put her mask by Catra’s small, frightened face._

_‘Don’t you_ ever _call me that again. You little—’_

“You seem uncomfortable in there. Good.”

The memory shattered, and Catra snarled as she nearly tripped over her own feet. She had been so caught up that she had entirely missed Glimmer’s arrival.

She wondered how long the princess had been watching her.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have a war to fight or glitter to throw or something?”

Glimmer spluttered for a moment. “Yeah, well, maybe… Maybe I’m here to interrogate you.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “You really are terrible at this.” Catra thought back to the conversation she’d overheard the day before. “No wonder the Queen never listens to you. If she weren’t your mom, she probably wouldn’t even want you in the Rebellion, much less make you a Commander.” Glimmer was fuming, now. “But the princesses aren’t doing so hot, are they? I guess if you’re desperate, anyone will do.”

“That’s not how it is. My mom trusts me.”

Catra laughed. “Sure she does. Aren’t you grounded or whatever for sneaking out on missions that she specifically told you not to go on? That seems like a _great_ way to build trust. And don’t those missions usually fail?”

“Not always.” Glimmer made an attempt at sarcastic defiance, “On our last mission we took a Horde soldier prisoner, didn’t you hear?”

“Right. And who caught _you_ on the mission before that?” Glimmer was silent. “Seriously, you capture one person and you think it’s some great victory. Meanwhile the Horde is razing your towns and overrunning your kingdoms. It’s a wonder the Horde didn’t wipe you all out years ago; how have you even lasted this long?”

“We’ve made sacrifices to survive.”               

Catra snorted. The very thought was ridiculous. “Please. You’re a princess – you have power, a whole kingdom waiting to do whatever you tell them to do. What would you know about sacrifice?”

“It’s not like that.” Glimmer’s voice was trembling, with tears or anger Catra couldn’t tell. “The princesses are supposed to protect Etheria, not the other way around.”

“Protect Etheria?”

_Oh that’s rich. Where have I heard that before?_

Catra laughed. “Maybe if all you idiots stopped trying to protect Etheria, this stupid war would end.”

“It’s not a stupid war! The Horde started it, and I won’t stop fighting them until Etheria is safe.”

“Then you’re exactly as stupid as I thought you were.”

There were definitely tears in Glimmer’s eyes now. “My dad sacrificed his life fighting the Horde! He believed in the Rebellion, and so do I.”

Catra growled and came close to the bars of the cell. “Is that supposed to make me feel bad for you? Do you think the Horde only takes from _you_? Guess what, princess: you’re not special – the Horde takes from _everyone_.”

“Then why would you choose to fight for them?”

“I didn’t!” Catra said it with more force than she had intended. She took a step back from the princess. “I was born into it,” she mumbled.

Glimmer scoffed. “So your parents were Horde scum as well.”

“No! I…”

_Why am I even having this conversation?_

But she finished her thought. “I don’t know actually. Maybe. Whoever they were, they certainly didn’t want me.”

_And neither did the person who ended up raising me, instead._

“Oh… I’m… I didn’t realize...” Glimmer actually seemed taken aback, and her nearly-constant look of irritation had softened. It was infuriating.

“Whatever. I don’t need your pity.” Catra hunched her shoulders and turned away slightly.

Adora had always wondered where she came from, what her story was before Shadow Weaver found her as a baby. Catra knew better than to wonder.

The princess’ scowl returned. “I was actually just trying to be nice. Why are you so angry all the time?”

“Why are you?”

Glimmer bit her lip, clearly holding back another furious outburst. They were both silent for a moment, watching dust motes swirl in the filtered sunlight between them.

Catra broke the quiet first. “I guess the Queen still hasn’t figured out what to do with me?”

She didn’t think the princess would answer her, but Glimmer sighed, and said, simply, “No, not yet.”

“Hm.” Catra started pacing again. Stuck between these walls, her mind kept racing, replaying memories which she had been desperately trying to outrun in the Whispering Woods. She needed to feel wind in her hair again, needed to feel the reassuring flex of muscle and sinew as she moved mindlessly through the trees.

Adora was catching up to her.

“Hey…” Glimmer’s voice pulled Catra out of the iron tang of a split lip, the smoky red glow of She-Ra, wide-eyed and speechless, towering over her. “Don’t worry.” Catra stopped pacing and shot a look at the princess. “The Rebellion isn’t heartless. It’s not like we’re going to execute you.”

Catra lowered her ears, “I think I’d prefer you kill me than keep me in here forever.” Glimmer raised her eyebrows in surprise.

_Idiot. Why don’t you just make a list of your weaknesses for her to take back to the Queen?_

“I’d _definitely_ prefer execution to talking to you,” she added, a bit lamely.

The look of exasperation Glimmer gave her was almost, _almost_ like Adora’s.

_Ugh, stop thinking about her._

“What I mean is,” Glimmer went on, “Whatever decision the Rebellion comes to, whatever punishment they choose, it will reflect your actions – no better, no worse.”

Catra scoffed.

_Like I haven’t heard that my entire life. I guess the Horde and the Rebellion really do have a lot in common after all._

She became aware that Glimmer was looking at her closely, brows furrowed.

“What?”

“Why—” Glimmer paused, took a breath. “In Plumeria… why did you let us go?”

It was impossible to answer that without diving into a writhing well of memory.

Besides, she didn’t owe the princess anything.

_I could lie. If they think I’m some soft-hearted idiot they might let me out._

But she was so tired of lying to survive. She’d been doing it from more or less the moment she’d learned to talk, and she couldn’t say it had made for a very good life, all told.

Catra looked away. “Oh please. Don’t flatter yourself – that had nothing to do with you.”

Glimmer was silent for a moment, then said, with quiet realization, “You got caught, didn’t you?” Catra growled deep in her throat, but did not answer, and did not meet Glimmer’s gaze. “Someone saw you let us escape, and they… what, kicked you out of the Horde?”

Catra shifted uneasily on her feet. “Something like that. I wasn’t kicked out so much as it suddenly became impossible for me to stay there anymore.”

Catra hated this. Hated being trapped by these bright walls that reflected all her memories back at her. Hated talking about these things with this _princess_. But she said them anyway. “Look—like I said, it really wasn’t about you, so could you just drop it?”

“You know, I think I actually believe you.”

“Good for you, Sparkles, you finally got something right.”

“Do they train you in snarky comments in the Horde or something?”

“Nope,” Catra grinned savagely, “Self-taught.”

Glimmer was opening her mouth to respond when she was interrupted by Bow rushing breathlessly down the corridor towards them. He skidded to a halt in front of Catra’s cell, and dropped his hands to his knees as he caught his breath.

“Hey Glimmer,” he managed between breaths, “Um… your mom is on her way down here.” He straightened and smiled brightly as he waved at Catra, “Hi, Catra.”

Glimmer’s voice rose with irritation, and, Catra thought, a little bit of panic. “What? Why is she coming _here_?”

Catra crossed her arms. “I guess she figured out what to do with me, after all.”

Moments later Queen Angella came into view flanked by two guards. Bow and Glimmer stood slightly to attention as she drew herself up to her full imposing height by the bars of Catra’s cell, her wings making her loom tall and forbidding.

“Commander Glimmer, we’ve had word of another major Horde attack. Have you learned anything useful from the prisoner?”

“What?” Catra snorted, “That was an _actual interrogation_? I thought that was some dumb excuse you came up with to make yourself look less like an idiot.”

Catra missed the embarrassment on Glimmer’s face as the Queen lifted her wings threateningly. “You, Horde soldier, what do you know about the attack on Salineas?”

Bow and Glimmer gasped.

“The Horde is attacking Salineas?”

“We have to help them!”

The Queen’s voice rang through the corridor with finality. “No.”

Glimmer was about to explode. “What do you _mean_ ‘No’? Princess Mermista was practically guarding the Sea Gate by herself when we were there!”

“And she failed.” The shock emanating from Bow and Glimmer was palpable to Catra. “The Horde is not _attacking_ Salineas. They have taken it. The Sea Gate is destroyed. There is nothing we can do to help.”

“You.” Glimmer’s voice was filled with a quiet anger Catra had not heard from her before. The princess’ eyes were cold and sharp. “You knew. You were spying on us in the woods. You must have overheard us talking about Mermista, and before we caught you, you sent the information off to your friends.”

“Great theory, Sparkles, except we already established that _I’m not with the Horde anymore._ ”

“Maybe you were trying to get back into their good graces.”

“We do know Catra doesn’t work alone.” Even Bow was eyeing her distrustfully now, “Queen Angella,” he asked, “Who was leading the attack?”

“Our scout reported that the Horde force was led by a tall warrior with a sword. The same officer who took Plumeria.”

“What?” Disregarding the sting of magic, Catra pressed herself against the bars, intent on Angella, “She-Ra was there?”

The Queen looked surprised. “She-Ra?”

Glimmer interjected, “That’s all the proof we need, then. She told her friend with the sword that Salineas wasn’t well defended.” She levelled and acid look at Catra. “ _You_ did this!”

Catra stepped away from the bars. “She’s not my friend,” she said, absently, “At least, I don’t think so. Not anymore.” She wasn’t paying any attention to the princess, lost instead in the wild thoughts that reverberated against the walls of her cell.

_Adora’s OK._

She imagined Adora climbing desperately up the causeway girding, straining until she pulled herself over the edge.

_She’s OK._

“What about Mermista?” Bow was asking, “Did she make it out?”

“Thankfully, yes,” the Queen responded, “She’s making her way to Brightmoon with her runestone now. We will offer her refuge just as we have for Perfuma and Entrapta.”

Catra’s ears pricked forward. “Wait, she took the runestone with her?”

Bow spoke up. “Probably because we told her about what the Horde did to the Heart Blossom after Perfuma left it behind – and how she lost her powers.”

The small party in front of the cell stared as Catra began to laugh.

Finally the Queen interrupted, “Why is that important?”

“That princess is never going to make it here.”

Glimmer reached through the bars and caught Catra roughly by the collar of her tattered uniform. “What do you know?”

Catra grinned. “See, now you’re starting to get the hang of this interrogation thing.”

Glimmer shook her. “Tell us!”

_Why not? There so incompetent they won’t be able to do anything with the information, anyway._

“Adora might be leading the mission, but she’s not really in charge. Shadow Weaver is in charge – Adora will do anything she tells her.” She thought of the stolen Heart Blossom sitting on its small platform in the Black Garnet chamber. “And Shadow Weaver doesn’t care about taking Salineas… She cares about taking its runestone. Adora is going to follow your princess friend.” Catra remembered the determined glint in Adora’s eyes each time they went out on a mission – the stubborn, determined look that didn’t leave her face until they returned to the Fright Zone. “And she’s not going to stop until she finishes what she was ordered to do.”

Glimmer let her go, and the Rebels stood silently for a moment.

“We have to help Mermista,” said Glimmer, finally.

“You will do nothing of the sort,” said the Queen, quickly.

“But Mom, she needs us! We can’t just leave her out there to be picked off by the Horde!”

“You will not go rushing off into a direct confrontation with the Horde… I order you to remain at Brightmoon!” The Queen’s voice had risen, and Catra realized it was tinged with panic.

_She’d do anything to keep her daughter safe._

Catra filed that information away for later, and ignored the small spark of jealousy that flared in her chest.

“Then Adora’s going to capture your friend and her runestone.”

Angella turned towards her. “This is all very convenient. You’ve provided us no information until this moment, when you feed us a story that would require us to venture out of Brightmoon to engage enemy combatants. You’re clearly leading us into a trap.”

Catra groaned. “I haven’t given you any information until now because, as I have mentioned several hundred times, _I am not with the Horde._ I don’t know what their plans are, I just know Adora, and she won’t stop coming for that runestone, even if the princess does somehow make it here.”

With that realization Catra began to panic.

The memories of Adora were bad enough. She couldn’t let the _real_ Adora get to her. What if she attacked Brightmoon? She’d find Catra waiting here like an idiot in this cell and… what? Take her back to the Fright Zone? Turn her over to Shadow Weaver?

_No._

Catra had, to all intents and purposes, left Adora to die on that ledge. The look of betrayal on Adora’s face as Catra stepped away had been chasing her since the moment she saw it. And worse, Adora thought she was a traitor to the Horde.

_If Adora finds me, she’s going to make me pay for all of that herself._

Bow was speaking now, “Angella’s right. We can’t trust the information. Catra could just be selling us out to the Horde.”

“I never even asked you to trust me!” Catra shouted. “Why are you asking me questions in the first place if you’re not going to listen to me?” A familiar, sour anger burned in her stomach. What kind of sick joke was it that not even the people interrogating her were going to listen to what she had to say? “You’re almost as thick-headed as Adora.” She turned away and stalked to the back of her cell. “Do whatever you want. I don’t really care if some princess loses her runestone.”

Glimmer stared after her for a moment, then looked to Angella, “Mom, we can’t take the chance of _not_ helping Mermista. There’s nothing we can do to save Salineas, but maybe we can save its princess.”

“No, Glimmer. We can offer protection to Mermista once she reaches Brightmoon, but she will have to make it here without our help.”

“But Mom!”

“That is my final decision...” Angella seemed at a loss as Glimmer scowled at her. “And you’re still grounded, young lady – go to your room!”

Glimmer waited only long enough to give her mother one last angry look before teleporting away. The rest of the Rebels stood for a moment in tense silence before leaving Catra alone in her cell with the dusty sunlight and the specter of Adora.

**

Catra was scratching absently at the Horde brand on her arm when Glimmer reappeared. The sunlight in the cell had shifted slightly; it was perhaps two hours after the encounter with Angella. The small explosion of sparkles took Catra by surprise.

_I have got to get out of here. I’m so distracted I can’t sense anything._

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?” Catra growled, “Or are you going to try to interrogate me again? I guess I could use the entertainment.”

Glimmer ignored the insult. She came close to the bars, looking intently at Catra. “Why did you leave the Horde?”

“I thought you were all convinced that I didn’t.”

“You said you wanted someone to listen to you – I’m ready to hear what you have to say. So why did you leave?”

Catra flicked her ears in surprise. “There was only one good thing there.” She scratched at the brand again. “And it wasn’t good anymore.”

“Do you want to go back?”

Catra’s answer was immediate. “No. Never.”

Glimmer furrowed her brow and chewed her lip. “How can we beat your friend with the sword… Adora?”

Catra chuckled and joined Glimmer by the bars. “You can’t.” Glimmer opened her mouth to protest, but Catra cut her off. “You know how strongly you feel about the Rebellion? About your mission to protect Etheria? That’s what Adora thinks she’s doing, and she feels just as strongly about it as you do.” She thought of the way Shadow Weaver used to tuck a stray strand of Adora’s hair behind her ear when they were children. “She was raised to destroy you, even before she got that stupid sword.” She remembered Adora’s look of determination as she swung her moonlit blade on the launch causeway of the Fright Zone skiff bay. “And you don’t stand a chance against her because she won’t let anything – not doubt or personal attachment or fear – get in the way of what she thinks has to be done.” She looked Glimmer up and down. “She’s not weak like you.”

Glimmer scowled at her, but before she could even think of another insult to hurl, the princess’ hand shot out to touch her shoulder, and Catra’s body fragmented.

When she had eyes to open once more, she found herself in the shady clamor of the Whispering Woods. Glimmer stepped back from her to join Bow where he stood, tracker pad in hand, by the twisted trunk of an old tree.

“You… let me out?” Catra managed to compose herself enough not to stammer too badly. Her tail lashed, her ears swiveled in every direction to take in the sounds of the forest. She already felt the pull of the trees, the impetus towards thoughtless motion that had been stifled and frustrated in the Brightmoon cell.

“We’re going to help Princess Mermista,” Glimmer said, “Will you come with us?”

Catra regarded her for a moment. “Why would I? I thought you were under the impression that I sold her out to the Horde.”

“I…” Glimmer groaned. “I may have rushed to conclusions in the heat of the moment.” Bow let out a tiny laugh behind her. “Anyway, I don’t think that you did… and I just… I feel like… maybe you’re here to help us.”

“You realize that’s a terrible reason to trust me, right?”

“Am I wrong?”

Catra looked up into the rustling leaves overhead. The branches swayed invitingly, waiting for her to spring away.

“Please Catra,” said Bow, softly. “We need you.”

“It’s like you said,” added Glimmer, “We don’t stand a chance against Adora. But _you_ do. You were raised just like her in the Horde, right?”

_Not just like her._

Glimmer stepped forward again and put a hand lightly on her arm. “You could beat her.” Catra stared at the princess’ hand. She nearly flinched away from her – she had grown so unused to touch in general, and to soft touch in particular, that the gesture startled her.

After a long silence, Glimmer sighed and took her hand from Catra’s arm. “Look – help us, or run away into the woods, or rat us out to the Horde – do whatever you’re going to do – it’s your choice. You haven’t actually done anything to hurt us, so you’re not our prisoner anymore.”

Catra was still for a moment more, then leapt into the trees and away.

**

Her time in Brightmoon had broken something open.

She leapt deftly from tree to tree, the cool, damp air rushing against her face in the way she had grown so accustomed to since leaving the Fright Zone.

But Adora, and all she represented, had caught up to her. The mechanism of thought and feeling had been set in motion once more, and no matter how fast or far Catra went, it wasn’t going to jam again.

Catra climbed to the top of the tallest tree she could find and crouched on a swaying branch. She dug her claws deep into the solid wood as memory hit her like a tank.

_‘Catra wait up!’_

_‘Leave me alone, Adora.’_

_They are newly-promoted senior cadets. At the promotion ceremony three weeks before, Catra had decided, for some reason, that this would spell some kind of change in her fortune – a new beginning, of sorts. She was going to be different, to be better – maybe even the best. The day after the ceremony she had even adopted a new piece of gear – a fearsome headguard that curved impressively over her brow and pushed her thick hair back from her face. She had made a plan, and she had been certain that everything would be different now. The trainers would finally see how clever, how capable, she is. Lonnie would leave her alone. Shadow Weaver would be proud of her. Adora would…_

_Catra isn’t exactly sure what she wants from Adora. She wants to beat her, to best her in every training exercise and class and see the look on her face when she loses. But she also wants to make Adora smile, for Adora to be happy because of her. Most of all, she wants to be close to Adora._

_But not right now._

_Right now, she wants Adora and everyone else as far away from her as possible, because all of her expectations and plans have come crashing down around her. They are only a few weeks into the new training, and already she is messing things up._

_“Come on, talk to me.” Adora has followed her out onto a high, rickety service walkway that overlooks the Fright Zone. “Is it about that thing in training today?”_

_“I didn’t last ten seconds against Lonnie,” growls Catra. “It’s the worst score any cadet’s ever gotten on that exercise.”_

_“Come on, you can’t know that.”_

_“Yes, I can. Shadow Weaver told me so, after the trainer reported back to her.”_

_“Oh... Well, you’ll do better next time,” Adora places a hand on her shoulder, “Everybody has bad days.”_

_“But I have them every day!” And Catra is so angry and frustrated and confused about what she is supposed to be that she lets her body take over, and she shoves Adora, hard. Adora stumbles back against the safety rail, which creaks horrendously before breaking free of its moorings._

_Adora shrieks as she begins to tumble into empty space, but Catra steps forward quickly, catches her elbow and pulls her back to safety. They both sit down hard on the walkway ledge and watch in shocked silence as the railing falls, bouncing and clanging off the face of the buildings below them._

_“Whoa,” Adora finally breathes, “Thanks.”_

_Catra rubs her hands over her face. She can’t do anything right today._

_“Why do you hang out in such dangerous places?” Adora is trying to be funny, but Catra ignores this._

_“So that people will leave me alone and not follow me when I don’t want them around,” she snaps._

_They lock eyes in the tense quiet that follows._

_“Sorry,” Catra sighs._

_“It’s OK.”_

_They both look out over the Fright Zone and let the tension drain away._

_Adora swings her feet idly from the ledge. “What is this thing for anyway?” She taps a finger to one of the pointed edges of Catra’s new headguard._

_“It’s stupid.”_

_“No, really – Why’d you start wearing it?”_

_Catra’s fur starts to prickle, and she prays that it doesn’t frizz out too noticeably in her discomfort. She really doesn’t want to answer, but Adora is looking at her with those big, trusting eyes, and she can’t just ignore them or the question. “I was… I was trying to be more like you.”_

_Adora’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t wear a headguard.”_

_Catra’s words come out in a rush as she tries to justify herself. “No, but your hair is always up, out of your face. I can’t get mine to stay up with a tie, but this pushes it back.” Adora looks a little uncomfortable. Catra hunches her shoulders and turns away, mumbling, “I told you it was stupid. I’m stupid.”_

_“Hey,” Adora slings an arm around her, pulls her close, “You’re the smartest person I know.”_

_Catra can feel her cheeks getting hot. “Yeah, but you only know idiots.”_

_Adora chuckles and gives Catra’s shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Why do you want to be like me?”_

_“I just thought…” Catra avoids meeting Adora’s eyes. “Shadow Weaver is always going on about how perfect you are and how you get everything right all the time… I thought maybe if I act more like you, she’ll like me better… Maybe_ everybody _will like me better.”_

_Adora is quiet for a moment, thinking. “Is that why you charged Lonnie head-on like that in the training exercise? That definitely looked like one of my moves.”_

_Catra doesn’t answer, hangs her head._

_“Well that’s why it didn’t work! I’m bigger than you – I can use brute strength to win.” Adora laughs, and Catra wants to be anywhere but here, trapped under Adora’s arm, when all she wants to do is cry._

_She pulls away._

_“Hey, wait.” Adora stops laughing, grabs Catra’s hand to stop her from getting up to leave. “Don’t try to be like me, Catra. Be like you.”_

_She’s right. Of course Catra can’t be like her. Adora is strong and bright and everybody likes her. Catra is Not Those Things, just like Shadow Weaver keeps saying. No matter what she tries, she’ll never measure up, so she may as well stop trying._

_Surely, if she stops caring, her inevitable failure will hurt less._

_It is at this moment that both she and Adora realize they are still holding hands, that somehow their fingers have become intertwined. They whip their hands apart as though they have been burned._

_Adora clears her throat. “Anyway, um… The headguard looks really cool.”_

_“You think so?” Catra reaches up to adjust the way the guard sits over her ears._

_“Yeah, you should keep it.”_

The branch was splintered under Catra’s claws by the time she surfaced from the memory.

She climbed down to an un-ruined branch and sat with her back resting against the tree’s trunk.

_Stupid._

She burned with the sense of so many years wasted in the Fright Zone – so many years doing exactly what Adora had told her to do, on that day when Catra had given up on herself.

_‘Don’t try to be like me. Be like you.’_

And she had been. She’d been the devious, unmotivated disappointment that everyone had expected her to be. She had played the part so well that it had been easy for Adora to turn on her, to let her go, to believe it was a simple thing for Catra to leave the Fright Zone behind.

Because of course Adora was fine.

Of course she hadn’t fallen from the causeway. Of course she was back to leading missions and doing Shadow Weaver’s dirty work like nothing had happened.

_Stupid._

Stupid of her to think that anything she did could ever have any effect on Adora, or whatever Adora thought was her destiny. Stupid of her to think that something as simple as leaving her in mortal peril would make Adora feel anything lasting. Adora had proven that Catra would never have any power to persuade her to anything, that she would always choose Shadow Weaver, or the Horde, or She-Ra and that stupid sword – _anything_ – over Catra.

And yet.

Catra couldn’t deny that some small part of her had hoped, even as she left Adora hanging there from the causeway, that _this_ would finally be enough. Maybe – _maybe_ – by leaving, by hurting Adora the only way she still could – Catra would make her realize her mistakes.

_Stupid._

And now she’d wasted precious time feeling guilty about the hurt she’d caused, when clearly it meant nothing. She needed to forget about Adora, avoid her at all possible costs.

Except.

_Why am I the one who has to run away? Why not Adora?_

That’s the way things had always worked back in the Fright Zone – Adora, the perfect girl, charging blindly forward, with Catra and the rest of the world ordering themselves around her. But if Adora had made different choices, used her brain a little bit more, maybe Catra would still be with her now.

_I’ve been living with the consequences of Adora’s decisions my whole life._

_It’s time Adora was forced to live with them, too._

What had been the point of leaving if she was just going to let Adora dictate her life from afar? Catra missed herself – her sly comebacks, the calculation of discovering someone’s next move, the brush of her skin against someone else’s. She missed her anger.

She drew one claw along the smooth bark of the branch beneath her and realized that she missed herself more than she missed Adora – and she hadn’t been herself for a long, long time.

If Catra kept running, if she stayed out here, feral and isolated in the Whispering Woods, Adora, and Shadow Weaver, and her childhood – all of it – would keep pursuing her like some terrible shadow, constantly threatening to swallow her up again.

Unless she turned around and faced it.

She could turn, claws out and teeth bared, make it clear that she was _here_ , that she refused to just fade from existence. She wasn’t going to run away from the things that hurt her anymore.

Catra flexed her claws and leapt from her branch, moving back towards the spot she’d parted company from Bow and Glimmer.

_Adora’s in my territory now. She doesn’t just get to do whatever she wants. Not here. Not anymore._

Though the Rebels were long gone, she easily found their obvious trail in the undergrowth. With that to lead her in the right direction, she returned to the tree canopy, moving quickly and quietly with her senses attuned to the tell-tale creak of Horde armor, the acid smell of their weapons charges.

Catra felt her old anger igniting. Maybe, now, it wouldn’t smolder, trapped inside her.

Maybe, now, it could burn clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...  
> This is and will continue to be a Catradora fic, but my fingers slipped on these darn keys and now I low-key ship Glitra in this AU.
> 
> Whoops!


	3. Umbra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora has a headache.
> 
> Also... Scorpia!
> 
> Those two things are not necessarily related.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Something resembling a regular posting schedule? Only time will tell.
> 
> Shout out to all the people in the comments who supported my Glitra fixation and who reminded me that Catra does, in fact, have two hands. You are all absolutely right, though I'm not sure I have the emotional or mental fortitude to do a Glitradora relationship justice in this fic - there are already sooo many feelings happening.

Adora could feel another headache coming on.

A thick cluster of pain was building just above her left eye, the result of yet another nearly-sleepless night. The dream-visions from the sword had gotten worse these last few days outside the Fright Zone, more frequent and, it seemed, insistent, but less ordered – images flashed but refused to cohere, like a signal somewhere was being interrupted. Every time an image started to solidify, it was obliterated by shadow. An almost-familiar voice whispered at her, but she couldn’t make out any word but her own name. The most disturbing development was a kind of _pull_ , indescribable but undeniable, that seemed to call her deeper into the Whispering Woods even when she wasn’t asleep.

Adora massaged her temple and squinted out into the trees. She wondered again why Catra had always seemed to enjoy the Whispering Woods so much – they were full of thick roots that caught and hindered heavy Horde boots, cold dew that dripped and rusted in the creases of armor, and unreadable, kaleidoscopic patterns of light and shadow.

It was impossible terrain – maybe that’s why Catra felt so at home out here.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot to alleviate the restless urge clutching at her calves and thighs to push forward into the dark undergrowth, to run among the twisted roots and vines until she found… What?

She winced as a twinge of pain rolled through the left side of her head.

That strange urge to run, the fractured visions, chasing down princesses and runestones in the ever-shifting woods – to say nothing of the general pressure of being destined to bring order to Etheria – had made for a mission full of wakeful nights, which led to ever-increasing headaches.

Adora had become something of an expert on lack of sleep over the past few weeks, tossing and turning in her too-empty bed, worrying about Catra and trying to control the wild rhythm of her breath. She had learned to deal with it – or, at the very least, to both ignore and hide her exhaustion when she was around other people.

Still, the insomnia, added to the overwhelming concern of utilizing this first opportunity outside the Fright Zone to search for any small sign of Catra, was really starting to take a toll.

“Hey boss!”

Scorpia wasn’t helping.

Adora winced and pinched the bridge of her nose as Scorpia approached from behind her and continued, too loudly, “I gave the water princess another sting, so she’ll be out cold for a few hours yet. Want me to do the same for the twinkly one?”

To be fair, actually, Scorpia _was_ helping. She was very helpful in general, and Adora appreciated that, but she found her big personality a little overwhelming at times, especially when she was running on little to no sleep.

Adora turned to face her fellow Force Captain. “No. The Princess of Brightmoon is out of magic. We wouldn’t have caught her, otherwise.” She thought for a moment. “And it looks like she can’t draw more from the Salinean runestone.”

It had been a strange realization, that she and this princess – all the princesses, she supposed – shared this weakness, this drain of power when they ventured too far and too long from a runestone. She wondered if the Princess of Brightmoon, now secured and ready to be transported back to the Fright Zone with her archer friend and Princess Mermista, also heard strange whispers and felt bewildering pulls when her power ran dry.

Strange that she and the princess should be so similar, but have such disparate goals.

She winced again. They weren’t _similar_ , they were the _same_. Only Shadow Weaver’s interference with the sword kept She-Ra stable enough to fight for the Horde. All of Adora’s confused feelings, her doubts and fears, came from her volatile princess heritage – they had to. She almost felt sorry for the princesses – Adora knew from experience now how difficult it could be to contain such chaotic forces inside.

Adora had found that her job was easier if she tried not to think too much about being a princess.

“I guess we’ll be headed back to the Fright Zone soon.” Scorpia interrupted Adora’s thoughts again. “In case I don’t get another chance, I just wanted to say that it’s been a pleasure working with you on this mission. Maybe Shadow Weaver will pair us together again next time – wouldn’t that be great?”

“This was just temporary,” said Adora, quickly. “Only until my Lieutenant can take up her duties again.” It seemed that Shadow Weaver hadn’t broadcast Catra’s desertion to the rest of the Horde, and Adora certainly hadn’t told anyone the truth. To most people, Adora’s Lieutenant had just quietly disappeared, and could just as easily return at any moment. Adora wouldn’t have it any other way, though she worried Lonnie might run her mouth at some point.

“Aw,” Scorpia’s face fell in what appeared to be genuine concern. “Is the kitty not feeling well?”

Adora spluttered. “Wha—you know Catra?”

“Is that her name? I guess I wouldn’t say I _know_ her, exactly, but we did meet in a hallway once. It was magical. We talked about how we both have tails!”

“Huh,” Adora mused. Catra was so insular, it was sometimes difficult for Adora to even imagine her interacting with other people.

Interacting non-violently, that is.

“And,” Scorpia added, “I mean you’re sorta famous what with the whole She-Ra thing and all, so I couldn’t help but notice she was your Lieutenant.” Scorpia held up a claw curiously. “I did think that was kind of odd, though, because don’t you two have the same training? Shouldn’t she be a Force Captain, too, and not a Force Captain’s second?”

“Well…”

It was a good question, and one that Adora wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

“Anyway,” continued Scorpia, “I hope she gets better soon.”

“Yeah,” said Adora, quietly, looking out into the woods again. “Me, too.”

They were camped on the bank of a wide river which coiled through the Whispering Woods. They had caught up with Princess Mermista’s ship just in time – they were deep in Brightmoon territory – much further and they would have lost her and her runestone to the Rebellion. In fact, the Rebels had tried to come to her assistance, but had failed miserably – they’d sent only a single princess and an archer, both of whom Adora dimly remembered from her earlier encounter with them, when they had fought with her and Catra over the sword.

This was also the princess that Catra had let escape in Plumeria, the one who had somehow convinced Catra to defect – Catra, of whom she’d seen no sign since entering Rebellion territory.

Adora’s stomach clenched at that.

After capturing the princess and her friend, Adora had deployed her small squadron into the woods to look for any additional Rebel strike teams. Meanwhile, she and Scorpia guarded the Salinean runestone, which they had transferred from Mermista’s graceful ship to the river bank in front of the solid Horde tanker along with the prisoners. With her stinger, Scorpia could keep Mermista unconscious and unable to use her runestone, and Adora was more than a match for a single archer and a princess drained of magic.

Capturing the second princess had really been Scorpia’s doing – she had done an admirable job fighting the Princess of Brightmoon, jabbing with her pincers until the princess had exhausted herself with teleporting. Adora should commend her for that at some point…

She’d do it later.

But first – Adora was going to get some answers from the Princess of Brightmoon.

First, she was going to figure out what the princess had done to Catra.

She adjusted the sword slung across her back – she had dropped her She-Ra form as soon as she could, to conserve her energy. She’d been feeling shaky for the past day, in addition to the fractured dreams, and she knew she needed to get back to the Black Garnet soon. She’d never been outside the Fright Zone for so long before, and with each passing hour, that pull into the Woods was getting stronger – with each passing hour, she felt, somehow, like she was getting closer to something she was missing, and she almost… didn’t want to go home.

It was confusing, and she didn’t like it.

Adora pulled at her high ponytail, making sure no stray strands of hair had escaped. “I’m going to interrogate the prisoners. You stay here and keep a lookout for our patrols.”

“You got it, pal!” chirped Scorpia, turning to peer determinedly into the dense woods.

Adora passed the Salinean runestone, a shimmering pearl, where it sat in a square metal cage, and crossed to the three prisoners who sat restrained with strong, dark cable.

The archer was looking with concern at the unconscious figure of Princess Mermista. The Princess of Brightmoon scowled defiantly at Adora as she approached.

Adora drew the sword, saw both prisoners’ eyes flick to the jagged shard of the Black Garnet forced into the hilt. “OK, Princess,” Adora said, using what she hoped was her most threatening tone. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

The purple-haired girl’s scowl deepened. “Do your worst, Horde scum.”

Adora knelt so that she could look directly into the princess’ eyes. “What did you do to Catra?”

“Huh?” The girl’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I… nothing?”

“I don’t know, Glimmer,” said the archer, sheepishly. “I wouldn’t call it ‘ _nothing.’_ ”

“Bow! Let’s maybe not talk about this in front of the _Horde officer_?”

“What?” said Bow. “They’re _friends_. I think she has a right to know.” Glimmer groaned.

Adora narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore their banter. “In Plumeria you said _something_ to her. How did you get her to defect? Why did she let you go?”

“What? I didn’t tell her anything! And I don’t know why she let us escape. One minute she was about to shoot us, and the next, she just… decided not to.”

“And…” Bow added, “She didn’t defect. She was actually pretty clear about that when we asked.”

Adora pressed a finger to her throbbing temple. This was harder than she had thought it was going to be. “No, you… You _did_ something… to make her leave.” Adora was aware that her voice had risen, frayed at the edges – she was showing her enemies weakness, but she pressed on. “Why would she leave the Fright Zone for you?”

Bow and Glimmer shared an uncertain look before Glimmer answered. “I don’t think she did.”

“Why else would she have left?!” Adora shouted, desperate.

She knew why.

On the few nights when the sword gave her peace, when its shadowed visions left her mind free and clear, she was still plagued by dreams. The look of bitter hurt, of loss, on Catra’s face as she stared up from the floor of the Black Garnet chamber nursing a swelling lip. The cold glint of resolution in her eyes, the angry set of her jaw as she stepped back from the causeway ledge.

_‘I wonder what I could’ve been if I’d left sooner.’_

“Um…” Bow was looking at her uncomfortably. “Are you OK?”

“Bow,” Glimmer interjected, “Do you _have_ to express concern for our captor?”

“Yeah, Glimmer. We should treat everyone with compassion because _we’re_ the good guys.”

Adora snorted, drawn out of her memory. “You aren’t the good guys. Who told you you’re the good guys?”

“I thought it was just kind of obvious,” said Glimmer. “Because, you know, we don’t go around burning villages and stealing runestones.”

“And,” Bow added, “Your army is called the _Evil Horde_.”

“Who calls us that?!”

“Everyone!” The archer stared at her for a second, gauging her reaction. “Did you really not know?”

Of course the Rebels would say something like this. The Horde wasn’t… couldn’t be _evil_.

_‘Face it Adora, we are not the good guys.’_

Adora could feel the panic that had clutched at her in the ruins of Thaymor enveloping her like a dark cloud. She had felt it many times since that first mission, never quite as severe, but shifting ominously at the back of her throat each time she led an assault – the paranoia that she was doing something horribly wrong, that, in fact, her entire life was wrong, that she was supposed to be someone else entirely, that she was on some dark trajectory over which she had no control.

She had learned to repress this. If she wasn’t supposed to be _her_ , who else was she supposed to be? This line of thinking was a weakness, as Shadow Weaver had taken great pains to show her when she expressed these concerns the day after the attack on Thaymor. It was nothing more than an inability to do what needed to be done for the greater good, and it had to be crushed if Adora was going to fulfil the destiny laid out for her by the woman in the sword visions – if Etheria was going to be saved.

Glimmer was speaking again. “Catra did say you really believed what you’re doing is for the good of Etheria…”

“Maybe you just don’t know the Horde like you think you do?”

Adora’s headache was so severe by this point that she didn’t really register what Bow said, focusing instead on the princess.

“Wait… Catra said? Then she did join the Rebellion!”

“Not exactly…” Bow sounded sheepish again.

“What is that supposed to mean?” demanded Adora.

“We sort of…” Bow paused, then rushed to the end of his sentence. “Found her in the woods and took her prisoner.”

“You _what?!_ ” Adora nearly choked on her anger at the princesses and panic that Catra had immediately gotten herself into trouble, after all.

“She was only in prison for a couple of days, though!” said Glimmer, hurriedly. “We let her go.”

Adora took a deep breath. “Where is she now?”

“We don’t know,” said Glimmer. “She went off into the trees as soon as I let her out. I don’t know why I expected her to do anything else.” The last bit was muttered under her breath.

Adora stood and sheathed the sword. She attempted to loom over the prisoners, tall and threatening (she wasn’t sure it worked). “We’ll be heading for the Fright Zone soon… You’ll pay for what you did to Catra.”

She made her way back to Scorpia – and away from the Rebels – as quickly as she could.

“Learn anything good?” Scorpia asked.

Adora sighed. “Not really.”

“You seem stressed,” Scorpia looked concerned for a moment, then her face brightened. “You know what might help? A nice, relaxing walk in the woods!”

Adora looked dubiously into the dim trees before them, full of unidentifiable chitterings, strange lights, and, probably, monsters. “Ummm…”

“You go ahead! I’ll keep an eye on the prisoners, ‘cause that’s just the kind of friend I am.” Scorpia had already spun on her heel and was striding towards the Rebels before Adora could reply.

Adora sighed again, rubbed at her temple, and took Scorpia’s advice.

**

Unexpectedly, Scorpia’s advice seemed to work. As Adora walked, the pain in her head eased slightly. She wandered a bit aimlessly until she realized that she had begun to thoughtlessly follow that strange pull deeper into the woods, then found her way back to the river. She stopped at a small, clear spot on the bank just around a bend from the Horde camp and drew her sword uneasily. There was no telling what might sneak up on her in these woods.

She wished Catra were here. She could always hear danger coming long before Adora had any idea it was there.

Adora squinted with suspicion at a tiny wisp of blue light that floated past. If the Rebels were to be trusted, Catra was long gone from Brightmoon territory. A pang of guilt washed over her as she thought of Catra trapped in a Rebellion prison cell.

This was all Adora’s fault. If only she could have made Catra stay, she wouldn’t have gotten into such a dangerous situation to begin with. She thought of Catra sitting on the bed in Adora’s new Force Captain’s quarters with her eyes downturned as Adora ran her hand over the ugly bruising on her ribs – bad things always seemed to happen to Catra when Adora wasn’t around.

If she could have made Catra stay, she could have protected her, like always.

But Catra was free now... She’d gotten them to let her go… And she had disappeared into the woods again…

Because she hadn’t gone to Brightmoon to defect.

A different sort of guilt, sharper, more defined, cut through her. It had been easy to believe that Catra was leaving to defect, to assume that she was lying when she said she wasn’t. It had been easier than thinking about the way Catra tensed with… what? Fear? When Adora touched her after the incident in the Black Garnet chamber, or the way she curled away from her at the foot of their bed that night.

Adora’s grip tightened around her sword. Sometimes bad things happened to Catra when Adora _was_ around.

It had not been easy for Adora to lie to Shadow Weaver – or, at least, to tell what she believed to be a lie at the time. Adora was glad that she had. It would be safer for Catra, this way—easier for her to come home.

If Adora could find her and convince her to come, anyway. She swallowed hard and leaned on the sword, pressing its point into the damp earth by her feet.

So… Catra hadn’t left out of some higher calling, which meant she’d left because she was angry with Adora, angry with Shadow Weaver. She’d left out of spite – well-deserved spite, perhaps, but still…

Adora didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved. On the one hand, Catra wasn’t a traitor, not _really_. She had just made a few unfortunate choices which Adora was sure she could convince Shadow Weaver to forgive. On the other hand, Catra was, as always, still just selfishly doing whatever she felt like doing, without any thought to the greater good. Catra was an excellent soldier, and the Horde needed her – Etheria needed her. Why couldn’t she put her anger aside to see that?

At least this should make getting her to come home easier. Adora knew what to apologize for, now. If only she could find Catra to talk to her…

Adora stepped back from the bank and leaned against a tree. Her headache was back.

“Hey, Adora.”

Adora sighed and put her hands to her throbbing head. Great. As if all of this weren’t enough already, now she was hallucinating Catra’s voice even while she was awake, unless she had fallen asleep out here in the woods, in which case she really should wake up, not just so she didn’t get eaten by a monster or ambushed by princesses, but because she really didn’t feel like she could take another sword vision right now, especially not one with Catra because those were always the worst…

“Hey, Adora!”

“No no no go away,” Adora muttered under her breath.

“Don’t ignore me!” Adora lost both her breath and her balance as something slammed into her from above and threw her backwards onto the ground. She looked up and blinked several times as she saw Catra’s irritated face over hers, and realized that Catra was sitting on top of her.

This had never happened in a vision before…

“Catra? It’s really you?”

“Obviously.”

Adora brought her hands up immediately to grasp Catra’s arms. She felt Catra tense as she made contact, but she relaxed slightly as Adora’s hands kept moving, touching Catra’s hands, shoulders, face, the brand on her arm.

She was real. She was solid flesh and not the stuff of shadow. She wasn’t going to disappear again.

“You’re OK?”

Catra narrowed her eyes. “I’m great.” She paused, and looked uncertainly at the spot on her forearms where Adora’s hands had come to rest, fingers trembling slightly. “Are you?”

Adora didn’t answer.

“What happened to your headguard?” Adora reached toward Catra’s wild hair.

“I threw it away, Adora.” Catra flinched away from Adora’s touch, climbed off of her, and stood.

Adora sat up, already a little uncertain that Catra’s weight on her chest had been entirely real. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to keep anything… from the Fright Zone.”

“Oh.” Adora stared at her. Catra was really here… right? And Adora had been hoping for just this, and she needed to say something, she’d thought about it, she needed to get Catra to come home, let her know it was safe…

“What is wrong with you?” Catra was squinting at her, her eyes narrow slits of blue and yellow. “This… isn’t exactly the greeting I thought I’d get.”

“What do you mean?”

“Adora.” Catra crossed her arms over her chest. “The last time I saw you, I pushed you off a ledge and left you hanging there. You could have fallen and… You’re supposed to be angry. Or betrayed or something.” Adora’s eye was drawn to the nervous twitching of the tip of Catra’s tail.

“Oh. Well.” Adora stood. “You were upset. I know… I know I hurt you, in the Black Garnet chamber, when I… when Shadow Weaver… You were upset.” She looked down. “And I’m sorry.”

Catra was silent, but she seemed alert, her ears pricked forward as if anticipating something.

“So… It’s OK.” Adora finished. Catra had to know that it was safe to come back, that Adora didn’t hate her.

“It’s OK that I basically left you to die?” The full length of Catra’s tail lashed once, twice.

In Adora’s experience, the things she cared about sometimes hurt her. She had learned, with Shadow Weaver’s guidance, that she could either let that fact overwhelm and distract her, or she could accept the hurt and move on. Catra was no exception – never had been.

Adora shrugged and shifted uneasily on her feet under Catra’s stare. She realized that her sword was on the ground, picked it, and sheathed it across her back carefully.

Catra scoffed and lowered her ears, and Adora couldn’t help but feel she’d failed some invisible, unspoken test. It was a familiar discomfort, but it proved to her without a doubt that this Catra was real, and that thought comforted her.

“I see you caught some princesses.” Catra inspected the claws of one hand disinterestedly. “Good for you.”

Of course Catra had scoped out the entire camp before appearing. Catra was smart like that. The Horde – Etheria – needed her strengths, and Adora wished again that she would realize that.

That was hardly a subject she could broach right now. “Friends of yours?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Are you going to help them escape again?”

Catra chuckled. “Don’t worry, Adora. I’m not here for them. I’m here for me.”

“I know...” Adora swallowed. “I know you didn’t defect.” The tip of Catra’s tail twitched again. “That Brightmoon princess and her friend told me. They… they took you prisoner?”

“ _What?_ ” Catra’s tail was writhing angrily now, and her fur bristled. What had she said wrong? She was _apologizing_ – that was supposed to make Catra _less_ angry. “So _now_ you know I didn’t defect...” Catra uncrossed her arms, took a step forward. “Because some princess you talked to for three minutes told you so?” Her hands were balled into fists, and she held her arms straight and stiff at her sides, full of angry tension. “But when I told you the same thing straight to your face, you ignored it and pulled that stupid sword on me instead?”

Catra made a good point.

“I’m sorry. I messed up.” Adora could feel the situation slipping out of her control. This had to work – she had to convince Catra to come home. The thought of returning alone to her empty, sleepless bed now, after seeing Catra again, after touching her, made Adora’s heart pump at a desperate, irregular pace.

“Please, I… I miss you.” She stepped closer and took one of Catra’s stiff hands.

Catra snatched her hand back and snarled. “Stop it, Adora. That’s not going to work again. Not this time.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Adora had always been aware that Catra saw at least three layers of meaning where Adora saw – or intended – only one. She had never understood how to navigate this. Sometimes, talking to Catra felt like walking through a labyrinth full of traps, where doors frequently shut in her face just as she thought she saw a glimpse of something important.

“Catra, it’s OK. I… I lied to Shadow Weaver.”

Catra paused, eyebrows raised and ears akimbo with surprise. “You what?”

“I didn’t tell her what happened when you left. Not really. I just said that you were gone when I woke up.”

Catra’s tail lashed again. “I see. So you told her you weren’t involved at all. It figures that when you finally learn to lie, you do it to stay on Shadow Weaver’s good side.”

“That’s not what it was about!” Adora took another step towards Catra. “Don’t you see? No one thinks you defected – apart from Shadow Weaver, no one even knows you _left_.” She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady the pounding her in chest. “You can come back, Catra – you can come back to the Fright Zone, and things can go back to the way they were!”

Catra stared at her for a moment, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Why would I want to go back there?”

Adora’s heart stopped.

“Because… it’s home.”

Catra expelled a great breath of air, something between a laugh and a sigh. “So I was right. It really didn’t mean anything at all.”

“What?” Adora managed to remember to breathe.

“I left for a _reason_ , Adora.”

Adora dug her nails into her palms and furrowed her brow. “I know – I’m sorry for hurting you in the Black Garnet chamber. I get it now. I messed everything up by doing that.” Her face was hot with desperate frustration by this point. How many times could she apologize for the same thing? “You’ve made your point – you can come home now.”

“You think that’s what this is about?”

“Of course,” and Adora felt her frustration heating into anger. “Something bad happened and instead of just talking about running away like you usually do, you actually did it. Like I said, you made your point. Now it’s time to stop sulking and come home. You have a duty to—”

“Don’t you _dare_ say that to me. Don’t you _dare_ start talking about a duty to protect Etheria. You never protected me – you’ve never protected _anyone_ – not in any way that really mattered.” Catra growled, deep in her throat. “You think I left because of one bad thing? It was _all_ bad, Adora. Shadow Weaver, our childhood, _us_ – all of it!”

Adora’s mouth hung open in a moment of shocked silence. Then, quietly, “You must have some good memories of the Fright Zone.”

“I really don’t.”

Adora’s headache had returned full force. She rubbed her temple, took a deep breath. She didn’t know how she could respond to that. How could she fix _that?_ “Please Catra… I don’t know what to do.” She felt the full weight of her exhaustion settle on her shoulders. She felt pulled – nothing like the force that called her into the woods, though just as strong – to stumble forward until she could bury her face in Catra’s neck. “Can this just be over?”

Catra’s laugh was wild, jarring Adora’s already frayed nerves. “This won’t be over until I see the look on your face when you realize that everything you’ve ever _really_ believed in was a lie. I wasted so much time waiting for you to get it on your own – for you to turn against Shadow Weaver and—” She swallowed whatever she had been about to say _._ “Well, I’m not waiting anymore. I’m going to _show_ you.”

Catra abruptly leapt into the tree over their heads and raced through the branches in the direction of the Horde camp.

“Catra!” Adora ran after her, stumbling over raised roots and dodging low-hanging branches. Catra quickly outdistanced her.

When Adora rounded the bend in the river, she saw Catra descend from the trees a few yards ahead of her. She ran the rest of the way to the camp on foot, Adora following behind. Scorpia stood as she heard their approach.

“Scorpia, watch out!” Adora called.

Scorpia was waving good-naturedly when Catra reached her. With one great leap, Catra arced up to Scorpia’s considerable height and kicked her square in the face. The blow took Scorpia by surprise, and she tumbled backwards over the bank into the slow water below.

The encounter with Scorpia slowed Catra down enough that Adora had almost reached her when she landed. Catra’s next leap took her to where the prisoners sat bound on the bank. Adora stopped and drew her sword, panting heavily.

The Princess of Brightmoon’s eyes were wide with surprise as Catra landed beside her. “You came back.”

“Simmer down, Sparkles, this isn’t about you.”

Adora leveled the sword at the group before her. “Catra, what are you doing?”

“Like you said, Adora. I’m proving a point.” Catra stared directly at Adora as she clawed through the prisoners’ restraints.

Things were getting out of hand.

Scorpia had finally managed to pull herself out of the river, and she headed towards the prisoners.

“No Scorpia!” Adora shouted. “Get the runestone.” Scorpia swerved, hefted the runestone in its cage, and ran for the tanker. “I’ll take care of this.”

She thrust her sword into the air. The familiar dark cloud cut through with red lightning enveloped her. She felt her body grow and shift, and, as always, at the end of the transformation, there came the sharp, full-body pain as _something_ was redirected, or forced into an unnatural shape, or repressed – a feeling that Shadow Weaver had assured her was necessary if She-Ra was going to fight for the Horde.

She-Ra stepped forward as the cloud dissipated, black cape billowing behind her, the Horde insignia across her chest glowing red against the charcoal background of her tunic, and lowered the sword towards Catra again. Bow and Glimmer had lifted Mermista – still unconscious – between them. Catra took a step closer to Adora, claws extended threateningly and long incisors exposed.

“Why are you doing this, Catra? I’m trying to help you!”

Catra moved faster than Adora remembered – she had soared past Adora’s shoulder and was pulling on She-Ra’s long hair before Adora could even think of moving her sword. Catra tugged her head back and snarled into her ear. “I don’t want you to help me.”

The prisoners were going to escape if Adora didn’t end this soon. More worrisome – She-Ra was going to falter if Adora didn’t end this soon. She had been away from the Black Garnet for far too long. She felt slow, and the pull of the woods was much stronger in this form – it was distracting.

Catra was the most pressing concern – she had to stop Catra before she could turn her attention back to the prisoners.

Adora spun and brought one of her fists down hard, but Catra was already gone. Adora’s fist made a large divot in the dirt instead.

Catra’s voice came, mocking, from behind her. “Come on, Adora. Aren’t you supposed to be good at this sort of thing?”

Adora spun again and swung the sword down with both hands. Catra leapt out of the way easily again, still hurling quips. “Isn’t that why Shadow Weaver liked you best?”

Adora ripped her sword out of the ground and thrust again, blindly, towards Catra’s voice. This time the sword lodged deep into a tree as Catra jumped straight up and over the blow, landing on the broad edge of the sword. “Or does she just like you because you’re so easy to manipulate?” Catra spun on the sword, and whipped her foot out painfully into Adora’s face. Adora stumbled backwards as Catra moved up to a tree branch to shoot down forcefully a second later, clawing at Adora’s face. Adora teetered precariously on her heels, and Catra pressed her advantage, shoving herself directly into Adora’s chest and using their combined momentum to make She-Ra tumble onto her back.

It was a miscalculation. Adora grasped Catra’s shoulders and rolled over, trapping her against the ground. Her body moved the way it had been trained, and, without thinking, she punched Catra square in the mouth. Catra cried out, pressing her face to the dirt, and it brought Adora to her senses. She eased her hold and peered down worriedly, the bitter look on Catra’s face in the Black Garnet chamber passing frantically through her mind.

“Are you OK?”

Catra whipped her head around to grin up at her savagely as she brought her knees up, hard, into Adora’s stomach. “She _definitely_ liked you better because you’re easy to manipulate.” She stood as Adora fell back on her knees, winded. Catra spun, and her foot connected again with Adora’s face. Adora’s hands were trembling now, and her headache was blinding – She-Ra’s power was spent. She fell onto her side, and her view of Catra was momentarily obscured by the thundercloud of She-Ra’s transformation.

Catra knelt, cupped Adora’s cheek with one hand, and lifted her head a few inches from the ground.

“Do you get it now? _I am not ever going back._ ” She let Adora’s head drop.

Catra turned to the Rebels, who were staring at her, transfixed to the spot where she had set them free before the fight began. “Get out of here. She’s powerless now until she can get back to the Fright Zone.” The princess and the archer, supporting Mermista between them, shuffled away.

Catra put her face close to Adora’s once more. Her eyes were narrowed, hard. “These woods are mine. Don’t come here again.” She leapt into the nearest tree and was gone.

Adora lay, ragged and alone, where Catra had left her, staring up at the shifting pattern of light through leaves, until Scorpia found her, scooped her up in surprisingly gentle claws, and carried her back to the tanker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Simmer down, Sparkles' is now one of my favorite phrases.   
> Please feel free to take it as your own and work it into casual conversation.


	4. Half Tone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty kitty remains angsty, gets nice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #catragetsahug

This time, as Catra left Adora behind, she felt no guilt, and only a little pain.

She ripped through her trees, not so wildly now, but with a focus, a determination. She had meant what she said – these woods were her territory, and she would control what went on in them. She followed unnoticed in the high, thick branches as Glimmer and Bow brought Mermista to Brightmoon, ensuring that they weren’t waylaid by any of Adora’s Horde patrols roaming the woods – what was the point of her stunt by the river if Adora just ended up getting what she wanted anyway?

It was a relief, really, that the suffocating guilt she’d been running from since leaving the Fright Zone had dissipated into fury. It was easy, she found, to be angry at Adora. It felt good to be angry at Adora. It felt familiar.

She wondered if what she’d said to Adora in that heated moment had been true – that one day, Catra might see her broken with the realization that everything she persisted in believing was wrong, and this would all be over.

She crouched in the shifting sunlight of a particularly leafy branch and watched as the Rebels and their charge disappeared safely into Brightmoon, then turned and whipped through the tree canopy once more, relishing the breeze against her face.

_Over._

Catra couldn’t really picture it. What was she without this twisted animosity towards Adora? It seemed it had always been a part of her, as constant as the craving to be close to Adora or the anticipation of danger from shadow. She had let those things go when she escaped the Fright Zone, and she had nearly lost herself as well, numb and unthinking, in the Whispering Woods.

_I won’t lose myself again._

That meant, instead, that she had to keep going, keep clawing away at Adora’s perfect world until it collapsed entirely. Proving that she had irrevocably left the Fright Zone had been a good start, if the look of exhausted hurt on Adora’s face as she dropped to the ground had been any indication.

_What’s next?_

Maybe, if she hurt enough, Adora would notice the crumbling foundations of Shadow Weaver’s house of lies.

Maybe if she hurt enough, she’d finally start listening.

Catra wondered briefly how much of the fight with She-Ra had been about hurting Adora and how much had been about getting her to see the truth.

She decided it didn’t matter.

**

Glimmer found her in the woods three days later. Or, more accurately, Catra found Glimmer as she crashed around in the undergrowth calling Catra’s name. It was annoying. Catra had been enjoying the relative quiet of her trees, breathing easily in the cool air that was no longer quite so thick with dangerous memories.

She leapt down from a branch to land in front of the startled princess.

“You know I don’t just come when I’m called.” She leaned against the tree’s trunk.

Glimmer gave her a knowing look. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Catra ignored that and flicked the tip of her tail. “What do you want?”

“I came to thank you for saving us. Again.”

Catra sighed and inspected the claws of one hand. “That’s sweet, Sparkles, but I _really_ didn’t do it for you.” She flicked her gaze up to meet Glimmer’s. “Or your stupid Rebellion.” She resumed her inspection, flexing her claws slightly. “You just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.”

“I know – you have made that abundantly clear.” Glimmer raised her eyebrows, the smallest of smiles pulling at one corner of her mouth. “But you still did it. And you won in a fight against the Horde’s best soldier.”

“She was low on power.”

“Even so. You made more progress against the Horde than the Rebellion has in years.”

_She wants something._

Catra narrowed her eyes at the princess. “What’s your point?”

Glimmer clasped her hands in front of her, fiddling nervously with her fingers. “We could… use your help.”

Catra cackled. “What, be some Brightmoon lackey?” She turned, ready to leap back into her tree. “I’ll pass.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Glimmer’s voice had risen in pitch as Catra turned away, and the princess took a deep breath before she continued. “Catra, I would like to ask you to be the first official member of the new Princess Alliance.”

Catra turned again to stare at her. She did not appear to be joking.

“I’m not a princess.”

“I don’t care.”

“You can’t go around calling it a Princess Alliance if it’s not actually an alliance of princesses.”

“Fine… Then… By the power of Brightmoon, I name you an honorary princess… Princess of… um…” She gestured around them as inspiration hit. “The Whispering Woods.”

“That’s dumb.” Catra’s heart was enveloped in a warmth that was not anger.

Glimmer sighed. “Look, you have no reason to fight this fight…”

“Wow, persuasion really is not one of your strengths.”

“Let me finish! You have no reason to fight this fight… unless you choose to. You’re not a citizen of Brightmoon, you’re not a princess, you don’t have a magic sword that turns you into some giant warrior lady… you’re just a person. You could walk away from all of this, forget us and let us forget you… Or you could choose not to.”

This princess kept offering her choices. It was heady, and a little bewildering, to have so much control over her own life.

An alliance with Brightmoon wouldn’t be the worst idea.

_At least they wouldn’t put me in prison again, that way._

It was more than that, though. What could hurt Adora more than living up to her worst expectations?

And if Catra really wanted to get out from under the shadow of her childhood, she needed to send a message. What could get Shadow Weaver’s attention more than officially allying herself to the princesses?

She could show them all – the entire Fright Zone – that she was not someone to be dismissed, or ignored, or crushed into the dirt.

_They can’t get rid of me that easily._

“OK, Sparkles. I’m in.”

Glimmer squealed, and Catra started as she teleported close for a quick, sudden hug. She teleported back to her original spot before Catra could react. She was so unused to that kind of contact from anyone but Adora – and this was nothing like Adora – that Catra didn’t know what to make of it.

“This is great!” Glimmer clapped her hands together. “We’re having a small celebration at Brightmoon tomorrow – please come! Mermista wants to meet you, and…” Glimmer leaned closer as her voice went up at least an octave. “I think my mom might actually _apologize_ to you!”

“…OK?”

“Fantastic!”

Catra retreated from Glimmer’s excitement into a low branch – she figured she was safer from unexpected hugs there. The princess’ antics actually made her smile, just a little bit.

“So if I’m an honorary princess,” Catra mused, “Do I get a tiara or something?”

Glimmer paused and looked at her with what Catra hoped was mock solemnity. “I’m sure if you ask nicely Bow would be more than happy to make you one.”

**

Catra underestimated how nervous and awkward she would feel returning to Brightmoon. She padded slowly down the long walkway to the entrance of the castle.

_I have no idea where I’m supposed to go._

Her fur prickled as she reached the end of the walkway and encountered one of the tall Brightmoon guards. The woman straightened as Catra approached, and, to her utter confusion, bowed when Catra stopped in front of her. Catra looked behind to see if the guard was bowing to someone else, but Catra was alone on the walkway.

“Um…” said Catra, “Glimmer invited me?”

“Of course,” the guard replied. “Follow me, I’ll take you to the princesses.”

The guard led her through the luminous halls of Brightmoon. Catra was still amazed at the way clean sunshine reflected off every surface, so different from the way the putrid light of the Fright Zone had slithered, oily and thick, in the enclosed corridors of her childhood. The halls were spacious, but full of people. They whispered as she passed, and one or two pointed.

_This is strange._

Catra knew hostile, distrustful glances – she had grown up with them, but that was not the sense she got from the citizens of Brightmoon. Rather, their whispers were gentle, and their faces open, curious.

The guard noticed her discomfort. “I apologize for them. There were many people hoping to catch a glimpse of you today.”

“Why?”

The woman’s tone was surprised, as though the answer should be obvious. “You rescued our princess and were victorious against the Horde’s strongest warrior. You are an honored guest in Brightmoon.”

They continued in silence as Catra tried to make sense of that.

Finally the guard left her with another bow at the entrance of a sunny garden. Catra took a few hesitant steps onto the clipped grass and saw the princesses.

A brightly-colored group was gathered on blankets spread with food and drink. Glimmer was giggling at a story Bow was acting out dramatically. Next to them, Catra recognized Princess Mermista, conscious at long last, staring forward with a deadpan look on her face as a lanky, tan princess with blonde hair babbled into her ear. Two other, older, princesses grinned into each other’s faces as they ate off each other’s plates.

Catra took a step back. Her whole body felt stiff, and heat rose to her face. The group before her seemed impossibly far away – like she was looking at them through the wrong end of a scope. Touched as they must all have been by war, they seemed happy – or, at the very least, none of them seemed quite broken.

Not like Catra, with all her bitter memories and angry scars.

She twitched her tail and flicked an ear. Their wholeness infuriated her. She wanted to destroy it, wanted to rend them all bloody and ragged with her claws at the unfairness of their happiness.

_I don’t belong here._

The only person as damaged as Catra was far away in the Fright Zone, and she had been broken in a different way – their pieces did not fit with one another’s.

She lowered her ears and quietly slunk away.

**

Since she was there already, and the Rebellion’s new-found appreciation for her made it unlikely they’d throw her in a cell again, Catra decided she might as well explore Brightmoon while she had the chance. She avoided people, choosing the most deserted halls to wander through.

There wasn’t much to see. Everything was the same uniform collection of pastel hues and shiny surfaces. Catra actually found herself missing the dark solidity of the Fright Zone’s corridors.

She made her way deeper into the castle, sensing an increasing cool dankness the closer she came to where the castle melted into the cliff behind. Soon the light dimmed, the floor grew rougher, and she found herself in a series of what she supposed were cellars. She felt a bit more relaxed down here, far away from the sunny group celebrating up in the garden.

A loud whirring sound followed by a tremendous crash put her on the alert again. Cautiously, she followed the echoes to a large, open room, warmer than the surrounding cellars, filled with unfamiliar machinery and flashing screens. She stepped slowly into the center of the room – there was no one to be seen.

“Hello?”

“Hello!” Catra spun and leapt backwards, her fur standing on end. Something strange had somehow snuck up behind her – as Catra took a closer look, she realized it was a small person wearing a welding mask and supporting her weight on two large, purple pigtails. The stranger lifted her mask with a strand of hair and stared inquisitively at Catra. “Can you hold something for me?”

“Um.” Catra blinked. “Sure?”

“Fantastic! Here.” She shoved a heavy, metal orb into Catra’s hands and slid towards one of the screens. She typed something into a keypad, then turned and looked at Catra expectantly. Catra shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot until the screen behind the stranger beeped and flashed red. She frowned and pulled out a small recorder. “Brightmoon log continued, latest test of prototype 364 proved inconclusive, as the device failed to detonate yet again—”

“What?!” Catra – perhaps unwisely – dropped the orb to the floor, and it rolled away. “Did you just ask me to hold _a bomb?_ ”

The stranger caught the orb in her hair and lifted it to her face to inspect it more closely. “Just a small one. And I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to work. What it really needs is a little First One’s tech.” She looked up at Catra, her eyes glittering with sudden hope. “You don’t have any, do you?”

“…No.”

Her face fell. “Ah well, it never hurts to ask.”

Catra began backing out of the room. “Look, sorry I interrupted your… science or whatever. I was just trying to avoid that group upstairs and I kind of ended up here by accident. I’ll just go.”

“Oh yeah, that gathering was today. I completely forgot about it. Ah well. I’m sure the other princesses won’t miss me.” The small woman pulled a tool out of her overalls and began tinkering with the device.

There was a saying about curiosity and cats that Catra had always hated with a burning passion, and she tried not to think about it now as she edged back into the room.

“You’re a princess?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m Entrapta.”

Catra looked at the dark walls around them, still feeling the familiar Fright Zone closeness in the warm dark. “Do you live down here?”

“I do now. I had to come here after my kingdom was destroyed.”

Catra didn’t remember any Horde briefings about a princess like this. “Did the Horde do it?”

“Oh, no. I did it myself!”

“Huh?”

Entrapta spun in her chair to face the screen behind her and began typing into the keypad again. “An experiment of mine turned just the teensiest bit deadly, and the only way to contain it was to, well, blow everything up, essentially. I initiated the self-destruct sequence myself.”

 _Huh. Maybe there was a_ little _truth to that stuff they told us in the Horde about princesses being destructive. In fact, Hordak could probably just sit back and let the princesses wipe themselves out at this rate._

“You princesses really are a mess, aren’t you?”

“That statement is accurate.”

Catra approached Entrapta, leaning on the machinery next to the princess and crossing her arms. “Why aren’t you going to their little get-together? Aren’t those other princesses your friends or something?”

“Of course they’re my friends!” Entrapta paused for a moment, her gloved fingers frozen over the keypad. “Although social gatherings aren’t really my forte. I’ve been told I can make people… uncomfortable.”

“Hm.” Catra couldn’t help but reach her hand out to run it through a lock of Entrapta’s shifting hair. The princess seemed surprised, but not uncomfortable, at the touch, and Catra found herself savoring the rare moment of contact. “You’re not like them, are you?”

Entrapta pulled the welding mask over her face instead of answering and pecked half-heartedly at a few buttons on the keypad.

Catra looked around at Entrapta’s room again. It felt familiar for more than one reason. Her anger prickled at the nape of her neck, under her mane.

“It’s not fair.”

“I am uncertain of your meaning.”

“Why do they get to be all happy and bright up there, while you’re down here in the dark because you’re different from them? So what if they’re uncomfortable? You should be up there _making_ them uncomfortable. _Make_ them see you. Make sure they can’t ignore you just because they find you inconvenient.”

Entrapta had raised the mask to reveal her face again. “I don’t know…”

But Catra had seized on this course of action, and she was going to see it through. She extended a hand to the princess. “Come on. We are going to this stupid thing.”

Entrapta put a tendril of hair into Catra’s proffered hand and brought the recorder to her mouth again. “I don’t yet understand this angry feline person’s determination to attend said gathering, but… it could be an interesting social experiment...”

**

Catra didn’t entirely hate every moment of the gathering of princesses. The food, at least, was better than the roughly-cooked birds she’d been living off in the woods and miles ahead of anything that had ever been served in the Fright Zone. She found that Mermista was an excellent conversationalist in that she didn’t feel the need to make any. Entrapta, by contrast, was very talkative, and Catra had no idea what she was talking about, ever.

The most striking aspect of the gathering for Catra was the way the princesses so openly exhibited their vulnerabilities. The Horde had always presented the princesses as a chaotic yet united front, but Catra couldn’t help but quietly observe and notate the cracks, the immense chinks, in the bonds between the princesses. It wasn’t only the awkwardness and confusion surrounding Entrapta. She saw quickly that Netossa and Spinnerella weren’t quite part of the group, either, that Glimmer and Bow in particular seemed oblivious to their presence. Perfuma never seemed to talk about anything of substance, and Mermista only spoke in short, annoyed bursts. Glimmer seemed mildly uncomfortable around everyone except Bow, and she fidgeted nervously every time he turned away from her to address someone else.

_They might seem happy, but they’re barely holding themselves together._

_At least in the Horde we knew better than to be obvious about these things._

Eventually another guard appeared at the entrance of the garden. Queen Angella, it seemed, was unable to attend, but she did request that Catra come to her for a brief meeting.

Glimmer let out an exasperated groan. “She probably just doesn’t want to apologize to you in front of all of us. Typical – she has to be so perfect all the time.”

Catra made a note of Glimmer’s antagonism towards her mother on this point and followed the guard back indoors.

Angella met her in a room much smaller than the throne room but just as shiny. There was a circular table surrounded by high-backed chairs sitting in front of an impressive mural of stylized princesses – some sort of homage to the original Princess Alliance that Glimmer kept talking about, Catra guessed.

As Catra entered, Angella stood from her seat at the table, her stance mirroring the enormous winged figure of her mural-self on the wall behind her.

_And I thought Hordak and Shadow Weaver were narcissists._

_Although I haven’t seen Angella’s wings branded into anyone’s skin._

“Catra.” Angella came around the table to stand in front of her. “I wanted to thank you personally for your actions in the Whispering Woods.” She shifted her wings uncomfortably. “Especially in light of my earlier treatment of you.”

“You mean when you tossed me in prison and ignored everything I tried to tell you?”

The Queen’s mouth tightened. “Yes.” She raised a hand, and Catra instinctively took a defensive step backwards, her claws extending slightly. The Queen stopped and looked at her with surprise.

Catra, realizing that no blow was imminent, relaxed her muscles and stood straight again. “Force of habit,” she muttered, bitterly.

_Thanks for that, Shadow Weaver._

Angella regarded her for a moment with something that Catra wanted to believe wasn’t pity, then placed her hand slowly, gently, on Catra’s shoulder. “You saved my daughter, and for that I am immensely grateful.” Perhaps seeing that Catra shifted uneasily under her touch, she lowered her hand as she continued. “You saved Princess Mermista and defeated the Horde in battle, and for that the Rebellion owes you a debt of gratitude. You are welcome to stay in Brightmoon – a room can be made ready for you today.”

Catra looked from the shining pastel floors to the shining pastel walls and shook her head. “Brightmoon’s not really my kind of place. I’m not some refugee princess – I prefer my own territory. I’ll stay in the woods.”

Angella seemed surprised, but she did not protest. “Very well. But you are welcome in Brightmoon at any time.”

After a few more awkward exchanges, Catra left Angella in the meeting room and wandered out of Brightmoon, back to her trees.

Over the next few days, Catra took Angella up on her offer of hospitality – in her own way, of course. Mostly she went to the Brightmoon kitchens when she didn’t feel like hunting. Sometimes she visited Entrapta. She still had no idea what the princess was talking about at any given moment – and Entrapta did ask her to hold small explosives on at least two more occasions before Catra was able to emphasize that she was not comfortable with that particular activity – but it grounded Catra somehow to be around someone as out of place in Brightmoon as she was.

As before, Catra found she was a bit famous, and people stared or thanked her as she walked through the halls. The praise was unnerving, and Catra couldn’t help but look for the lie, for the trick that would bring all that praise crashing down around her ears.

The days stretched on and it never came.

**

Finally, Glimmer told her there was going to be an official meeting of the new Princess Alliance, whose membership, according to Glimmer, now also included the refugee princesses in addition to Netossa and Spinnerella. Catra arrived to the war-room fashionably late to find Glimmer and Angella in mid-argument and the other princesses and Bow staring sheepishly at the floor or ceiling, with the exception of Entrapta, who wasn’t paying attention at all, preferring instead to tinker with what Catra recognized was another tiny bomb.

_This is already a disaster._

Catra went to Entrapta first, delicately plucking the explosive out of her hands and placing it out of her reach on the table. “Hey, Entrapta. Let’s keep the bombs in the lab from now on, huh?”

That shut Glimmer and Angella up, and the rest of the room also gave Catra their full attention, paling collectively as they glanced from her face to the device on the table and back again.

Catra crossed her arms and lashed her tail. “So this seems to be going well.”

Bow laughed nervously. “Hey, Catra, so glad you’re here. We were just discussing… tactics. This is your seat.” He gestured to a high-backed chair which sat squarely between Mermista and Netossa, halfway between where Angella and Glimmer glared at each other across the table. The chair back was inlaid with a shimmering oval on which was a stylized depiction of a dark purple tree. A quick survey around the table revealed that the design was distinct from the other chairs, and that Mermista, Perfuma, and Entrapta also had individualized chair backs.

_They made me my own chair?_

Catra walked to the chair and stretched herself out comfortably in it. “Tactics?”

“Yes.” Glimmer’s words were tight and clipped with badly-disguised anger. “I think we should strike back at the Horde before they go on the offensive again. They won’t be expecting us to attack Salineas so soon after they’ve taken it.”

“Such a strategy would be disastrous,” interjected Angella. “We simply do not have the resources to engage offensively with the Horde. We must protect the territories that we have left.”

Glimmer practically growled with frustration.

_This is getting interesting._

“But with the new Princess Alliance we have more—”

“Not enough. If Mermista and Perfuma still had access to their runestones, perhaps, but without their powers the Alliance is not strong enough.”

“You aren’t even giving us a chance to prove ourselves!”

Catra raked her claws across the arms of her chair to make an extremely satisfying screech. “Can you two shut up for a minute?”

Glimmer, Angella, and the rest of the table gaped at her (except Entrapta, who had resumed tinkering with her bomb).

“Are the rest of us just here as an audience for your arguments, or do we get to voice an opinion?”

Glimmer closed her mouth and cleared her throat. “Of course you do. Go ahead, Catra.”

Catra flicked her gaze from Angella to Glimmer a few times before continuing.

“Glimmer’s right.” A barely-stifled shriek of excitement came from her right. “You can’t win against the Horde if you just retreat all the time. Queen Angella is also right.” A satisfied hum came from her left. “Meeting the Horde face-to-face with your current resources is impossible. You have to learn how to survive when you’re outgunned and outnumbered.” Catra leaned forward and put her hands on the council table. “The Rebellion needs to start fighting dirty.” She turned to Bow. “You made the traps in Plumeria, right?” Bow started and nodded sheepishly, and the way he and Glimmer avoided Angella’s eyes told Catra that they had been specifically ordered not to do anything of the sort. “That’s the kind of thinking you need. If they can’t touch you, they can’t hurt you.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing traps to be laid for Horde patrols. Catra felt strange – warm and jittery and capable – as the others listened closely to her suggestions.

She wondered if Adora always felt like this.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Catra stretched thoroughly, her spine cracking loudly from the hours of confinement to her chair. She needed a nap, and she thought longingly of a particularly sunny tree branch not too far from Brightmoon’s gate.

Glimmer stopped her as everyone else filed out of the council chamber. “Thank you, Catra.”

“What for?”

“Meetings with my mom usually go nowhere. You saw how it was – we just argue and never come to a real decision about anything. But you gave us a way forward. You gave us a plan.”

“OK.” Catra took another step towards the door, towards her tree branch, towards her nap.

“Catra…”

“What now?”

Glimmer laced her fingers together apprehensively. “I couldn’t help but notice that you talk about the Rebellion like it’s not something you’re a part of.”

“Am I?”

“Well… aren’t you?”

Catra crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I’m in your Princess Alliance – that’s fine. You don’t throw me in prison any more – that’s great. I give you some pointers on not dying, do a little damage to the Horde, and every once in a while I grab dinner from your kitchens. That’s it – don’t expect me to get caught up in some cause. You may ‘believe in the Rebellion’ or whatever, but I don’t.”

“But if you’re our ally...”

Catra flicked the tip of her tail in irritation. “Look, Sparkles, I know the whole ‘protect and defend Etheria’ deal is kinda your thing, but it _really_ isn’t mine.”

Glimmer’s face fell. “Then why did you decide to join us?”

Catra thought of the constricting warmth of Adora’s arms made more suffocating by the lack of understanding in her eyes, the sting of Shadow Weaver’s magic as it struck her body, the equal sting of Shadow Weaver’s words telling her she was weak and would never amount to anything.

“Does it really matter?”

Glimmer sighed. “I guess not.” She let Catra pass. “Just remember an alliance means you’re not alone. We take care of each other.”

_I’ve heard that before._

Catra’s thoughts ran so wild that her nap was ruined.

**

Every so often over the course of the following days, in what Catra could only describe as a twisted fit of homesickness, she spent the night in Entrapta’s lab. The hum and tick of the machinery there was like an angry lullaby from her childhood. After a night or two of this, she realized that what she was missing was not the dark, enclosed spaces of the Fright Zone so much as the familiarity of another person breathing nearby while she slept.

Entrapta, it seemed, never rested, but tinkered and clanged all night, so Catra, slowly and cautiously, began experimenting with other sleeping spaces.

The foot of Bow’s bed was very soft, but he snored and woke too early and too talkative in the morning.

Perfuma’s bed she found empty, which did not suit her purposes at all, and Mermista’s was too crowded on account of Perfuma being there. There was a predictably similar issue with Spinnerella and Netossa.

Glimmer’s bed was her favorite. It was high off the ground and full of soft, luxurious pillows, and the look of surprise and annoyance on Glimmer’s face each time she found Catra taking up space there was priceless.

She still mostly slept in the woods, napping during the day and roving in the moonlight by night, but it was a strange and almost wonderful thing, to have a selection of people to turn to if she chose.

She went on several small missions with Bow and Glimmer, laying traps designed in tandem by Bow and Entrapta for Horde patrols in the woods. Catra saw very few Horde soldiers, and no trace of Adora at all.

She wondered if Adora had actually listened to her warning, or if she was just busy elsewhere.

**

A week or so after the first meeting of the Princess Alliance, Angella requested a meeting with Catra, Glimmer, and Bow.

Catra entered the council chamber late as always, to make the Queen wait just because she could, but to her annoyance she found that the others had anticipated her tardiness and were just settling into their seats as she arrived.

As Catra draped herself over her chair, Angella leaned forward and laced her long, slender fingers together. “Catra,” and Catra felt the familiar jolt of tension that spiked through her body each time Angella said her name, followed by the soft unclenching in her stomach as her brain registered that it was not Shadow Weaver addressing her. “Thank you for meeting with us. I asked you here because I want to talk about your… Horde compatriot. I want to talk about She-Ra.”

Catra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What is there to talk about? She’s big. She’s buff. She’s stubborn, and she’s got a sword.”

“There’s actually _a lot_ more to it than that,” said Bow.

The Queen hummed in agreement. “Ever since you mentioned She-Ra in relation to the attack on Salineas, I have been struggling to make sense of her reappearance on Etheria. Bow has been invaluable in researching the history of She-Ra, so that we could be certain that she is, indeed, who we think she is.”

“I _may_ have access to a few sources you don’t have here in Brightmoon.”

Glimmer looked at Bow sharply, and he avoided her gaze, rubbing at the back of his neck.

_There’s a secret there._

Catra added this to her instinctively-maintained list of the Rebellion’s pressure points.

She flicked an ear, and returned to the matter at hand. “What do you mean ‘reappearance’?”

Bow spoke up again. “The last time anyone saw She-Ra was over a thousand years ago.”

Catra waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. It was Glimmer who finally broke the silence. “She-Ra is a First Ones legend. She was supposed to appear in times of great need, to restore balance to Etheria.”

Catra snorted. “But instead she showed up wearing the uniform of your enemy.”

“Precisely.” The Queen readjusted her wings behind her. “Which is the source of our confusion: That should be impossible. The sword, and She-Ra, are meant to protect Etheria. Why would She-Ra fight for the Horde?”

Catra’s answer was immediate, obvious. “Because she’s not just She-Ra – she’s _Adora_.”

Adora who always lost their childhood games of tag.

Adora who never cried, except in places where only Catra could see her.

Adora whose kiss was intoxicating and painful, whose embrace was an oppressive cage of safety.

Adora who thought she had a destiny, and would sacrifice anything and anyone to fulfill it.

The others were staring at her. “She thinks she’s doing the right thing. She thinks she _is_ protecting Etheria.”

“She did seem pretty convinced of that when she captured us.” Glimmer’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “But how could she possibly believe that?”

Catra laughed bitterly. “She was raised to hate princesses. And Shadow Weaver, our… commanding officer, told her the Horde fights for the sake of Etheria.” Catra scraped one claw along the arm of her chair, focusing on the sensation of her nail biting slightly into the otherwise unyielding surface. “She believes everything Shadow Weaver tells her.”

“But none of that explains why the sword would have chosen her in the first place,” said Bow. “Or why she looks so different from the legends.”

“Well,” said Catra, slowly, “Shadow Weaver did mess with the sword.” She gestured to Bow and Glimmer. “You saw Adora transform the first time – after Shadow Weaver got her hands on the sword, it was… different. She connected Adora to the Black Garnet somehow – she always has to go back to it to recharge.”

“She-Ra was never associated with any one runestone,” mused Angella. “She drew her power directly from the Sword of Protection.”

_Great. The stupid sword has a stupid name._

“Do you think,” said Glimmer, “if we could disrupt her connection to the Black Garnet, She-Ra might go back to normal – the way she was when we first saw her in the woods?”

“I guess?” Catra clicked her claws against the council table. “But why is this important? Turning her into the She-Ra she’s supposed to be doesn’t help us beat her.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“But Catra,” said Bow, “Isn’t it possible that if She-Ra isn’t being corrupted by this Shadow Weaver person and her runestone, she might… fight for the Rebellion like the legends say she’s supposed to?”

Heat rushed to Catra’s face, and she felt impossibly small.

“I told you already, that’s not how Adora works.”

“Still, though,” Glimmer insisted, “Don’t you think it’s a worthwhile strategy to try and get her to join us?”

Catra opened her mouth to respond, but found that words had deserted her. Instead, she barked one bitter laugh and was out the door before anyone could say another word.

She climbed one of the tall spires jutting like horns from the top of the castle and sat there, tail curled tightly around her feet, feeling furious with herself.

Glimmer found her.

Catra shut one eye against the glare of her teleport. “There you are.” Glimmer put her hands on her hips. “Why did you leave?”

Catra spat the words out venomously. “Of course you want Adora. Everybody does. That’s the only reason you wanted me here, isn’t it? I’m such an idiot.”

“Is that what this is about? Look, Catra, we want Adora because, under the right circumstances, she can be She-Ra. From a strictly strategic standpoint, we need to consider persuading her to join us, and you’re more than smart enough to see that.” Glimmer sat next to her. “We want you around because… well, because you’re _you._ You’re clever and tenacious and strong.” She paused, looked into Catra’s face. “I guess what I’m saying, basically, is that you’re enough, Catra, just as you are.”

_‘Don’t try to be like me. Be like you.’_

Catra felt like she’d been kicked in the gut by a memory whose meaning had shifted. It was not a change great enough to erase everything that came after it, but still, one small moment of her past now glowed a little around the edges. For a fleeting second, Catra almost missed her headguard.

But this, now, was a different moment entirely, separated by so much time and distance from that memory, and she felt _different_. Why was her throat so tight, and why was her face burning? The intense feeling so distracted her that she forgot to be impolite. “Thanks,” she croaked.

“Anytime,” Glimmer crooked a small smile, then sighed and looked out at the view. Her shoulders slumped, the smile disappeared, and her eyes went deep and glassy with thought.

Catra looked at her sharply. She was still amazed at how frequently Glimmer – everyone at Brightmoon, really – showed their weaknesses, like rolling over and exposing a soft, unprotected belly. By this point she knew enough to destroy every one of them with little more than a word.

She didn’t.

“You’re enough, too, Glimmer.”

Glimmer started. “What?”

“Angella, right?”

Glimmer’s shoulders slumped further. “Yeah…”

“You’re enough.”

“How do you—“

“I know a thing or two about being a disappointment to parental figures.” Catra avoided Glimmer’s gaze, staring down at the shimmering lake below instead. “Angella might not be great at expressing it, but she’s not disappointed in you.”

“I just – I wish she would actually respect me instead of shooting down every idea I have.”

“She’s a little overprotective.”

“Exactly! I wish she’d at least let me make my own mistakes.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment, then Glimmer nudged her gently.

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Catra.”

Catra paused, took a breath, took a chance.

“Me, too.” She glanced sidelong to see Glimmer giving her a look. “Whatever. Get over yourself. Do you expect me to start crying or something?”

“Not at all,” said Glimmer, her own eyes filling as she ignored the wet tracks in the light fur of Catra’s cheeks.

**

That evening, after hogging Glimmer’s pillows and ignoring the princess’ complaints from the cramped corner of her own bed, Catra noticed that, somehow, the fur had started to regrow around the angry lines of the brand on her arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entrapta just loves bombs.
> 
> Also bonus Merfuma because G A Y.


	5. Penumbra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora acquires an emotional support scorpion, has bad dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look!  
> Look at this cool fanart made by Legendgrass for this fic!  
> https://www.deviantart.com/legendgrass/art/Free-and-Alone-805353308?ga_submit_new=10%3A1562901825  
> I am utterly astounded that someone out there made a thing because of a thing I made... I just think that's really neat.
> 
> Can I also take a moment to gush about all you lovely internet humans who are taking the time to read/kudo/comment/think about this fic? I think I mentioned in some chapter notes on Part 1 that this is my first experience writing fanficiton/putting any sort of writing in front of strangers on the internet, and y'all have been so encouraging and constructive and I just want you to know that I appreciate you!
> 
> Anyhoooooo... Have some Adora POV.

Adora picked nervously at her fingers as she waited in the Black Garnet chamber with Scorpia. Her head was still pounding after the encounter in the Whispering Woods, though her muscles were no longer shaking, and the scratches Catra had left on her face and arms earlier that day were healed after recharging at the runestone.

She turned suddenly to Scorpia. “Hey, can you… Just let me do the talking, OK?”

Scorpia regarded Adora for a moment over the Salinean Pearl that she held in her claws, then shrugged. “Sure.”

The door opened.                                                                           

Adora straightened her back and stilled her fingers as Shadow Weaver entered.

Adora saluted while Scorpia stepped forward and placed the Pearl on a low pedestal beside the Heart Blossom. Adora couldn’t help but notice that the previously smooth surface of the Plumerian runestone had acquired several chips and gouges since she’d last seen it. “Shadow Weaver, we’ve secured the Salinean runestone.”

“Excellent.” Shadow Weaver moved closer to examine her new treasure before turning to Adora. “And what about the princess?”

“We… pursued her into the Whispering Woods, but the Rebellion attacked. We lost her to Brightmoon.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scorpia’s head twitch slightly in her direction at the – not _lie_ , Adora told herself, just an abridged version of the truth.

“I see,” said Shadow Weaver. “A disappointment, to be sure, but of little consequence in the end.” She placed a hand on the Pearl. “You have fulfilled the true goal of the mission.” Her voice sharpened, an iron blade echoing off the walls of the chamber. “Force Captain Scorpia, do you have anything to add?”

Adora turned slightly to meet Scorpia’s eyes apprehensively.

“Uhhhhhh. Nope. No, nothing to add. That is… exactly how things went down. Absolutely nothing else happened out there, that’s for sure.”

“Very well. You are both dismissed.” Adora breathed a small, internal sigh of relief and prepared to leave. “Adora…” Shadow Weaver glided closer, and Adora stayed very still as she put one cold hand to her cheek. “I trust you would tell me if you had seen some sign of your errant Lieutenant?”

Every muscle in Adora’s body was tensed. She would have to lie, after all, and she hoped it didn’t show on her face. “Of course. There was no trace of her in the woods.”

Shadow Weaver removed her hand, and Adora hurried out of the chamber.

Scorpia was waiting for her. As the door closed behind them, she whispered, “So… um… you wanna tell me what that was about?”

“I…” Adora looked worriedly back at the chamber door. “Just… Come with me.” She led an unprotesting Scorpia through several of the Fright Zone’s winding corridors and out onto an old service walkway. She used to come out here with Catra when they were cadets, and, with the constant illumination of the factory lights from below, it was the brightest place she could think of. Somehow, she didn’t feel that secrets would be safe in dark spaces.

Adora leaned gently against the safety rail and looked out over the lights, thinking of what to say.

Scorpia broke the silence first. “So the wildcat’s in some trouble, huh?”

Adora sighed. “I guess you could say that, yes.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But she’s never _not_ been in trouble.” She glanced up to see Scorpia giving her a sympathetic look. “I always thought if I kept her close to me, and if I could be a good enough soldier, maybe I could keep her safe. Then she left… deserted. I thought I could get her to come back, but…”

“Yeah, she didn’t seem too friendly out there.” Scorpia attempted to lean on the safety rail as well, but thought better of it as the metal squealed and dipped under her weight. “I don’t think she wants to come back.”

“I know!” Adora snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “I know that now, but… well, if Shadow Weaver doesn’t know where Catra is, she’ll leave her alone.”

Adora didn’t want to think about what might happen to Catra if Shadow Weaver knew the whole truth of the situation.

“You two must be really good friends, huh?”

“I thought we were.” They both looked quietly out over lights of the Fright Zone for a moment.

“Well,” Scorpia broke the silence. “If you ever need my help again, or, you know, just somebody to talk to, let me know!” She smiled. “I’ve got your back, Adora.”

Adora looked at her with surprise. “Really?” She was acutely aware that she had just put a great deal of potentially dangerous information into Scorpia’s claws.

“Of course. What are friends for?” Scorpia’s face was open and smiling, and it occurred to Adora that she’d never met anyone quite like Scorpia in the Horde before.

She decided to trust her.

“Thanks, Scorpia. Without Catra around, I’ve been...” The corner of Adora’s mouth twitched upwards in a small, rueful smile. “Well, let’s just say it’s pretty lonely being the only princess in the Fright Zone.”

“Ah… um… oh geez…” Scorpia blushed and rubbed the back of her neck with one claw. “This is sort of awkward, then, I guess… ‘cause, actually, I’m a princess, too.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Why hadn’t Shadow Weaver told Adora there was another princess in the Horde?

Scorpia still looked sheepish. “Yeah. You know, they used to cover that in Force Captain Orientation, but I think they stopped ‘cause they felt weird about it after I became a Force Captain—”

“You’re a princess?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a _princess_?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“But you’re not a monster!” The words had tumbled out before Adora had a chance to really think about them.

“Aw, thank you. That’s so nice!” Scorpia’s smile was genuine – she didn’t seem to be perturbed by Adora’s outburst.

Adora’s thoughts were racing in circles.

She wasn’t the only one.

“Have you always known you were a princess?”

“Yeah…” For the first time, the corners of Scorpia’s mouth turned downwards. “It was kinda hard to forget that, growing up in the Fright Zone.”

Adora gave Scorpia a sympathetic look. She couldn’t imagine what Scorpia’s childhood must have been like. She wondered if Scorpia felt the same bewildering swirl of doubt, fear, and general confusion that she did, and if so, how she’d learned to live with it for so long.

Adora picked at her fingers again and asked a different question instead.

“So… what… what about your runestone?”

“Oh,” Scorpia gave a small laugh. “My family gave it to Hordak, who gave it Shadow Weaver.”

“The Black Garnet is your runestone?”

“Well, no, not really. Like I said, my family gave it away. And I don’t have any powers or a connection to it or anything.”

Adora swallowed. For some reason, her own connection to the Black Garnet seemed slightly sickening in light of this information. She thought of the shard of the runestone inlaid in Shadow Weaver’s mask, of the larger pieces set into the hilt of the sword, of the jagged holes that must scar the face of the Black Garnet because of them, and swallowed again.

“But anyway,” Scorpia continued, “The point is, you’re not alone!”

Adora felt a knot of tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding between her shoulder blades melt away. She blinked quickly as tears pricked her eyes. She-Ra was so much, and it had never been something she could share with Catra, even when she wanted to. The few times she’d tried, it somehow came out wrong, and Catra misunderstood her.

Even when she was closest to Catra, Adora had always been alone in this.

She had only been a princess for a few months – had Scorpia felt this loneliness her entire life? Adora pushed herself up from the rail, straightening her back. “Well… neither are you, now.”

Scorpia beamed at her, then looked down nervously as the old metal of the walkway creaked ominously. “What do you say we get off this thing before it rusts out from under our feet?”

As they left, Adora paused her relieved but still-spinning thoughts for a moment and turned for one last look out towards the horizon. She could just barely make out the soft, rounded form of the Whispering Woods.

This old, rusty walkway had been one of Catra’s favorite spots.

How many times had Catra come up here to stare out at those trees? How long had she wanted to leave the Fright Zone?

Adora thought of the fury twisting Catra’s face as she had let Adora’s head fall back to earth.

_‘It was_ all _bad, Adora.’_

Why had she stayed as long as she did?

**

That night, of course, she dreamed.

_The sword’s familiar dreamscape flickers into existence, it seems, the moment she shuts her eyes. There are no interruptions to the vision now that she is back in the Fright Zone, no bright flashes of light, no pull to wander in the woods, no unfamiliar voice calling to her. The vision is solid and real as it has ever been, and the woman from the sword rises like a dark pillar in front of her, a gash of shadow in the empty red landscape._

_‘Adora,’ the low voice intones, ‘You have done well. Order has been restored to Salineas.’_

_‘It was a good mission.’ And that had been true, until meeting Catra in the Whispering Woods. ‘A clean mission.’ Adora fidgets with her fingers. ‘Salineas was practically deserted. Only the princess stood against us. There were no civilians, no… collateral damage.’_

_‘Adora,’ the woman disappears briefly only to slither back into existence so uncomfortably close to Adora that she takes a hasty step backwards. ‘You cannot let such considerations affect you. Your destiny is to save Etheria. That is not an easy path – sacrifices must be made for the greater good.’_

_‘I know, but…innocent people?’ Adora’s mind flashes to the horror that was Thaymor, to the horror that Thaymor quietly remained even after Shadow Weaver explained it away, to the horror of each attack she led after Thaymor. She feels again the weight of the staggering effort it takes to mold her apprehensions into the shape of her duty, her destiny._

_These doubts are a weakness she cannot seem to shake._

_‘They are not innocent. Those who accept the rule of princesses are as great a threat to the order of Etheria as the princesses themselves.’_

_Adora thinks of Scorpia, of her family who joined and aided the Horde. She thinks of the personal sacrifices Scorpia must have made, growing up despised amidst those who were sworn to fight against her very nature, to become a Force Captain._

_‘I understand… I… think I understand.’_

_‘Good.’ The tall form of the woman shrinks slightly. ‘Remember, Adora, you are all that stands between Etheria and chaos. If you fail, all is lost.’_

_Adora bows her head, feeling the windowless circle of her destiny close in around her. ‘I know.’ The dark form of the woman begins to recede, the vision to fade, and, because she does not know who else to ask, Adora adds, desperately, ‘What about Catra? What do I do about her?’_

_There is a pause as the vision sharpens again._

_‘You can’t do anything about me.’ Catra appears to the left of the sword woman and saunters up close to Adora, smirking. Her hair is contained as it can be behind her headguard. ‘It’s too late.’ Catra lifts a hand to Adora’s face and smooths a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘I’m long gone.’_

_‘Huh?’ Adora flinches away from the dream-Catra’s touch._

_‘Oh, Adora,’ Catra purrs, ‘The princesses already killed me.’ And before Adora can say anything else, Catra has disappeared._

_The sword woman looms again, larger than before as her hair snakes out in dark tendrils, and her iron voice rings in Adora’s head like metal on metal. ‘You must let go of the past. Fight on in your friend’s memory, but do not look for her. It is a distraction from your true mission.’_

_And, again, before Adora can respond, she is catapulted from the dream._

Adora’s eyes snapped open, and she stayed very still and tense in her bed, staring at the drab ceiling as her thoughts raced.

Catra wasn’t dead.

Adora knew this. She had seen it with her own eyes. Unless something had happened after the mission…

_‘These woods are mine.’_

No. That wasn’t right. Catra must still be alive because no princess would dare, much less be able, to stand against those claws, that fierce, angry glint in her eyes.

Catra wasn’t dead.

So why would the sword get something like that wrong?

**

Following the mission to Salineas, there was a period of relative calm. Patrols and supply chains were slowed down by a series of Rebellion traps and guerilla attacks, and planning for the next major assault was postponed until the Horde could recover and restock. Shadow Weaver shut herself away with her runestones, and Adora, outside of routine drills, intermittent administrative duties, and a few meetings about a proposed small-scale mission into Rebellion territory, had a great deal of time to herself. Even the sword seemed to ease off a bit, and Adora had a chance to breathe.

And to think.

She spent most of time her with Scorpia, who, Adora found, grated less on the nerves the more time she spent with her. Things were uncomplicated with Scorpia in a way Adora had never realized they could be. Scorpia was an open book, and when she talked with her, Adora never felt the need to worry over each phrase, was never anxiously conscious that each word she uttered would be weighed and calculated in some larger context that Adora couldn’t see the shape of.

They didn’t talk much more about being princesses. It was, rather, a quiet bond between them. Adora felt comfortable, less volatile, with Scorpia, and Scorpia seemed happy to finally have someone to talk to.

Adora had never known that friendship could be so... painless.

**

She-Ra brought her sword down to meet Scorpia’s claws with a satisfying screech.

They were in their usual training room – in Scorpia, Adora had found the perfect sparring partner for She-Ra. They were roughly the same size, and with Scorpia’s thick, natural armor, Adora didn’t have to hold She-Ra back to avoid severely injuring her opponent.

Scorpia caught the blade between her claws and twisted, and the two of them grappled for a moment. Adora briefly enjoyed the strain of her muscles meeting a real challenge – and the smell of another person’s sweat, the rhythm of her breath – until Scorpia knocked the tip of the sword down with both claws. Adora took advantage of her position to swing one fist up to connect with Scorpia’s face. Her hand came away bloody, knuckles scratched by the strip of hard exoskeleton that extended along Scorpia’s cheekbone.

“OK, OK,” gasped Scorpia, reeling a bit from the blow. “I’ve had enough for one day.” She poked gingerly at her cheek with one claw, and her eyes fell to Adora’s fist. “Is your hand OK?”

“Yeah,” Adora sucked the blood off her knuckles, sorry the session was over. “I’ll be fine.”

Sparring matches were the only time she touched another person, the only time she allowed another person to touch her.

She tried not to think about that as the cloud of She-Ra’s transformation overtook her, and Scorpia stood tall over her once more.

Scorpia smiled at her, clearly harboring no hard feelings about the mark spreading over her face. “Good sparring, superpal! You wanna grab some food, or… Oh! We could play a board game!”

“Um…” Adora twisted an arm behind her to rub raw knuckles against her lower back. “No thanks. Actually, I think I’m going to stay here for a while and… punch some more things.”

“Adora, are you sure you’re OK?”

“Yeah, I told you, I’m fine.” Scorpia shot her an unconvinced look. “It’s just with the Rebellion’s new tactics, I’m stuck here in the Fright Zone with nothing to do. I have… a lot of energy… and too much time to think.”

“Hmmm, I don’t accept _any_ of that.” For such a large person, Scorpia could move surprisingly quickly. Before Adora quite knew what was happening, Scorpia had scooped her up bodily to cradle her in her claws, and the sword clattered to the floor.

“Scorpia! What are you—”

“Shhhh. It’s OK.” Scorpia rocked her back and forth – it was oddly comforting. “This is a safe space, Adora. You can talk about what’s really bothering you.”

“I don’t want to talk about Catra!” Scorpia stopped rocking her and looked at her expectantly. Adora sighed. “Fine. But can you put me down first?” Scorpia lowered her to the floor, and Adora immediately regretted the loss of physical contact. She supposed she could have stayed there, cradled in Scorpia’s claws – there was no one else here to see, after all. Generally she refused Scorpia’s generous hugs, even though she craved the contact. To accept would have been too great a show of weakness, too great a reminder of what was lost.

It was better this way.

She took a seat with her back against the wall, and Scorpia joined her.

Adora sighed again. “Catra… isn’t coming back.” It felt strange to finally say it out loud, to embrace it fully and without qualification.

“You miss her.”

“Of course! I grew up with her, and we were…” What were they to each other, exactly?

Scorpia cleared her throat. “Yeah. I think everybody knew you two were…” She also trailed off.

Adora groaned and put her head in her hands. “We’ve always…” She corrected herself, thinking of her first two weeks as She-Ra. “Almost always been together. I never really had to think about who I am without her.” She had always been secretly terrified that she would have to, though – another pressure weighing her down, especially with Catra’s changeable moods. She had lived with a constant fear that she would say and do all the wrong things, that she would drive Catra away – and that was exactly what she had ended up doing.

Adora brought her knees to her chest and propped her head on them, avoiding Scorpia’s sympathetic gaze. “I’ve always protected her. How can I protect her when she’s out there in the woods?”

“She seemed to do a pretty good job of protecting herself. I mean, she beat She-Ra and—” Adora shot her a glare. “Sorry, um… You’re doing your best?”

“Lying to Shadow Weaver, yeah. But that only works if Catra keeps a low profile. Meanwhile I’m stuck here covering for her reckless decisions.” Adora swallowed as a knot of frustration and resentment tightened in her throat. “It’s always been this way.”

Catra was late for a training session? ‘ _She will be here, I promise._ ’

Catra started a fight with Lonnie? _Adora would finish it._

Catra insulted Shadow Weaver? _Adora could distract Shadow Weaver from punishing her by setting a new time record in the fight simulators._

Adora balled her hands into fists. “She acts like there are no consequences for her leaving – like it didn’t affect me at all. She acts like I wouldn’t have gone with her if I could.”

She stopped short, and the two of them contemplated that for a moment.

“Wow,” was all Scorpia said. Adora glanced at her hesitantly, but the larger woman still looked at her with sympathy, not malice or alarm.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Adora muttered.

It was tempting – so tempting – to imagine a life outside the Fright Zone – a life with Catra outside the Fright Zone. It had been tempting ever since Catra first suggested it in the Whispering Woods when they found the sword.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she continued. “I can’t just run away from responsibility. Shadow Weaver always taught me that duty comes first, and that was even before She-Ra. I have a destiny, now – a mission! I can’t just go running off into the woods.”

Adora felt her old envy of Catra’s freedom flare. Catra was lucky – there was no destiny weighing her down, and she had never taken on any real responsibility of her own. What Adora wouldn’t give to be able to walk away from all of this – the Fright Zone, the sword, Shadow Weaver’s expectations…

But if she did, Etheria would fall to the princesses, and all would be lost.

Adora rubbed a hand over her brow. She was getting another headache. “We all do things we don’t want to do. Catra has never seemed to understand that. We all have to do things that hurt, or that we don’t understand. It’s for the greater good.”

And now Catra, as always, refused to put her personal hurt aside for anything or anyone. She ran away when Adora needed her most, when she felt like she was cracking under the pressure of her life. Catra had seen the cracks, Adora was certain – that was the kind of thing Catra always noticed – but she had left anyway.

Adora stood abruptly, her jaw clenched and her face flushed, clearly startling Scorpia. “Now that she’s gone… well, then all I have is the mission. That’s… That’s fine. Fewer distractions, this way.”

Scorpia stood as well. “Adora—”

“Look, thanks for listening, Scorpia, but I really do want to train on my own for a while.”

There was a moment of silence in which Scorpia was clearly struggling with whether or not to protest again. Finally, she relented. “OK, but…” She placed a claw gently on Adora’s shoulder. “Just remember you’re not alone.”

Adora nodded and waited until she heard the hiss of the door closing behind her, then eyed one of the punching bags as she stretched her arms.

Catra wanted her own space, and Adora could give her that. But if Catra interfered with the mission again…

Adora would have to make a choice.

She punched the bag, hard, left a smear of blood across its surface as the raw skin of her knuckles broke open again.

**

That night she had no vision. Instead, despite all her resolutions, she dreamed a memory.

_It is a quiet morning, the thrum and click of machinery in the walls subdued, the soft green light over their bed brightening slowly per its automatic settings as the day begins._

_Adora knows she should get up. She has an early meeting with Shadow Weaver to plan for the mission to Plumeria, and she needs to prepare, needs to be Shadow Weaver-ready._

_But Catra is still asleep. And she is pressed to Adora’s side, not curled into an impossibly tight ball and totally unreachable to Adora as she so often is, but stretched so that the full length of her body is in contact with Adora’s. Catra’s face is turned slightly towards her, framed by the always-wild mane, and she is purring softly._

_Adora shifts slightly, the stiff scabs over the long gashes Catra carved into her back pulling and sticking as she moves. They are nearly healed, and Adora hopes that the memory of that incident might fade, as well. Their nights have been somewhat gentler since then – less bloody, less painful. And the mornings are not the mess of confusion that first morning was, with Adora hurt and feeling almost sorry for finally –_ finally _– kissing Catra in the first place because Catra seemed hurt, too, but both of them still needing the contact, to keep their skin close to the other’s, clinging together after something so right but which Adora couldn’t help but think they had done for the wrong reasons._

_But this morning isn’t like that._

_Adora lets out a small sigh, and Catra opens one eye to peer at her, a yellow glint in the dim light._

_‘Are you just watching me sleep like a weirdo?’_

_‘It’s not weird.’ She runs a hand through Catra’s hair, and she wants to say,_ You’re beautiful. _She wants to say,_ You’re the only thing that sometimes feels right. _She wants to say,_ Please never leave.

_What she actually says is, ‘I’m just keeping an eye on you. You are sleeping in_ my _bed after all.’_

_As Catra opens her other eye and raises her brows, Adora is afraid that she has said precisely the wrong thing, that Catra is about to close herself off again._

_‘Well,’ Catra stretches and shifts to the edge of the bed, and cold air rushes into the empty space left beside Adora. ‘In that case I’ll just go sleep in my own bed.’_

_Adora reaches after her, panic surging in her chest and stomach. ‘Catra—’_

_‘Which way is my room again? I forgot.’ And Catra is looking back over her shoulder, a gleam in her eyes and a smug smile pulling at the corners of her mouth – and she is just joking, only teasing this time._

_Adora heaves a sigh of relief, reaches an arm forward to wrap around Catra, and pulls her back across the bed. Catra fits herself snugly into the space beside her, still smirking as the tip of her tail comes to rest against Adora’s calf._

_‘You’re terrible,’ Adora whispers in her ear, and she is rewarded with a satisfied purr._

_‘Seriously, there might not even_ be _a bed in there. I don’t think I’ve ever checked.’_

_Catra is all softness this morning, and Adora savors it. This, now, is one of those few perfect moments when there is nothing hovering between them, when Adora is not She-Ra, when her destiny is a far-off concern with no bearing on the present, when Catra’s eyes are not clouded by secret hurts and expectations._

_These moments never last long – Adora knows that soon Catra’s face will close off again, her eyes go unreadable, and Adora will be shut out. As they have grown older, Adora has watched, helpless, as Catra retreats further and further, hiding pieces of herself away from the world, Adora included. Looking into Catra’s soft eyes this morning, Adora hopes again that one day she can make Catra feel safe enough to come permanently out of hiding, or at least to let Adora in to share her secrets._

_Adora knows well enough by now that being with Catra hurts. It hurts like everything else – like her duty to the Horde, like her destiny to save Etheria. And, like everything else, Adora will not give up on it. Ever._

_She traces the long curve of Catra’s ear with one finger, and it is Adora herself who breaks the moment this time. ‘I should get up. I have a meeting with…’ and for some reason she balks at uttering Shadow Weaver’s name here, in their bed. ‘I have a meeting.’_

_Catra grins slowly, toothily, and slides her hand to Adora’s hip. ‘You could be late.’_

_But she can’t, because if she is late, then the planning session is suboptimal, and if there is an issue with the planning, then the mission does not go off perfectly, and if the mission is not perfect – if Adora is not perfect – then the princesses win and Catra is gone and Etheria crumbles and it is all her fault…_

_‘Hello? Hailing Force Captain Adora.’ Catra is looking at her quizzically. When Adora does not answer, Catra’s expression softens, and she reaches up to smooth Adora’s brow, which has twisted itself into a thunderous furrow._

_This is one of those perfect moments…_

_‘I can be late.’_

_Catra smiles as Adora presses her into the hard mattress and places kisses along her jaw and neck. Catra runs her hands lightly up Adora’s back to her shoulders, tracing the pattern of lines she left some weeks before._

_Adora cries out in pain and confusion as she feels Catra’s claws rake deep into the skin of her back again._

_This is not what had happened…_

_She looks down into Catra’s face – it is twisted with rage, her teeth are bared._

_‘It was_ all _bad Adora.’_

_And Catra’s claws keep slashing, keep digging through skin and muscle to strike bone…_

Adora woke breathless to find her sheets soaked not with blood but with sweat.

‘ _It was all bad.’_

Adora put her head in her hands, wiped sweat and tears from her face. Abruptly she got out of bed, went to the adjoining bathroom, and ran the hottest shower she could stand. She let the scalding water run over the thin scars on her back and tried to breathe the thick, steamy air.

But there had been a perfect moment…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should also mention, in case anyone's wondering - unless specifically noted otherwise, all characters in this fic are 18+.
> 
> Also, fair warning - I've got a crazy week coming up, so updates might slow down a bit (don't worry, I promise I won't make you wait like a month until the next chapter - I fully intend to have the entirety of Part 2 posted before Season 3 drops).


	6. Scattered Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra goes on a mission, and things get a little out of control.

The trip to the ruins of Dryl was much louder than Catra had expected it to be.

“A sonic arrow _is_ useful!”

“For, what, like if we need to wake up really early?”

“How would that even – am I shooting you with the arrow to wake you up in that scenario? Because at this moment, that actually sounds pretty tempting.”

Catra watched Bow and Glimmer closely. They had been bickering all morning. Their tone was playful, but she could sense the slight tension underneath, the truth of the dialogue – that Bow wanted Glimmer to see the value of his work, and that Glimmer was a bit too cocky with her magic to really appreciate him.

Another pressure point.

“What are you doing?”

Glimmer’s voice startled her out of her own head. She and Bow had stopped on the rocky mountain path and were staring at her.

“What do you mean?”

Glimmer squinted at her. “Every once in a while you get this… _look_ on your face. Like you’re, I don’t know, adding something up in your head.”

“Whatever.”

Entrapta popped back around the bend in front of them, doing a quick aerial somersault in her hair. “Hurry up, you guys. We’re almost there. I can’t _wait_ to get my hands on some First Ones’ tech again.”

Catra rubbed her temple. “Just tell me this is going to be worth our time.”

“With access to First Ones’ technology, I can upgrade our traps and weapons waaaaay beyond what they’re capable of now. Not to mention I can continue my work unraveling the mysteries of Etheria’s technological and thaumaturgical connections—”

Catra knew she had to cut her off, or she would chatter until she was blue in the face and they all died of boredom. Maybe longer. “ _OK_ , I get it. Scavenge Dryl for better bomb parts. Thank you.”

They rounded the bend, and Catra got her first look at the pile of rubble that was Dryl.

“Ah,” sighed Entrapta, “Home sweet home.” She paused and looked at the others’ faces. “It’s looked better, obviously.”

Dark rock lay in untidy heaps before them, the remnants of walls and towers leaning drunkenly over large pits. A shadowy crevasse snaked its way up the mountainside, an enormous gash over the ruins. Everything was deathly still and quiet.

Catra heard Bow gulp nervously beside her. “Entrapta, you’re sure there are none of those… murderbots left in there, right?”

“I can say with 92.67% certainty that they were all destroyed when the self-destruct sequence was activated. My drone didn’t detect any movement after the explosion. We’re more likely to face danger from collapsing walls and shifting rubble.”

“Great,” muttered Glimmer. “So much better.”

Catra quirked an ear at her. “I’ll take slidey rocks over homicidal robots any day.”

The corner of Glimmer’s mouth twitched. “Fair point.”

Entrapta skipped happily ahead into the ruin of her kingdom on her pigtails while the rest of them picked their way carefully through the precarious piles of debris.

**

“Entrapta,” groaned Glimmer, at least an hour and several stubbed toes later, “Are you _sure_ you know where you’re going?”

Entrapta lifted the empty shell of a robot’s faceplate from a heap of rubble with one pigtail as she replied. “Of course! A scientist always knows where her own lab is.”

“Was,” corrected Catra. She looked around them at the ruined interior of the Cryptocastle. The structure had collapsed into a series of rubble-filled caverns accessible at various points from the still largely-intact square. They were relying on Entrapta to help them find the First One’s tech she’d left behind, and she’d been leading them through dark, circuitous paths that confused even Catra at some points. Catra pointed to a torn painting dangling haphazardly from the wall. “Didn’t we pass that a few minutes ago?”

“Hmm.” Entrapta dropped the faceplate with an echoing clang. “You might be right.”

“Be careful!” Bow squeaked. “Any loud sounds could bring this whole place down on us.”

“Stop being so paranoid.” Glimmer leaned on a broken balustrade. “If anything happens, I’ll just teleport us out of here.”

“All four of us? Your magic has limits, Glimmer.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. “I know, Bow, because you tell me that all the time. Can you just trust that I can take care of us?”

_If she keeps pushing, he’s going to leave her._

She thought of the surprised, suspicious glance Glimmer had thrown him in the meeting about She-Ra, and the uncomfortable way he had avoided meeting her eyes.

_It’s no wonder he’s keeping secrets from her._

Sometimes, the Rebellion seemed to have as many cracks and fissures as the ruins of Dryl.

Catra swiveled an ear as something echoed in the chamber behind them. “Shut up, you two.”

“Oh come on, Catra,” droned Glimmer. “Don’t you think I could—”

“Shut _up_.” Catra bounded nimbly to the top of a pile of rock by the entrance to the corridor they were in. She pricked both ears forward, listening hard.

There was another echo.

Bow kept his voice low and soft. “What is it, Catra?”

“There’s something back there making noise. Something that’s not us.”

Bow had gone pale. “Is it… robots?”

“I’ll go check it out. You stay here.” She fixed an eye on Glimmer and Entrapta. “And stay _quiet_.”

Catra crept back the way they had come. The dim, enclosed space reminded her a little too much of the Fright Zone, and she tried to shake off the thought. She kept to the edges of rooms and corridors, slinking behind and between piles of rubble.

“Wooooo!” The sudden echo stopped Catra in her tracks. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of rocks shifting, and an echoing answer in a voice she would recognize anywhere:

“Careful, Scorpia.”

_Why is Adora here?_

“Sorry!” came the other voice – Scorpia. “These spaces are so tight, my tail keeps running into things.”

“I know, just…” Catra could hear the frustration verging on anxiety in Adora’s voice. “We only have a few hours until the transport squadron reaches us. We should secure the runestone before they get here – in and out before the Rebellion notices we’re in their territory.”

_Ruining her plan should be entertaining, at least._

Catra crept back to the other three.

Glimmer and Bow were waiting for her, tense and watchful, while Entrapta poked at a small techpad in her hand, scrolling through the map of the former structure of the castle that had proven to be only half-correct since they arrived.

“We’ve got company,” Catra announced quietly. “The Horde is here – only She-Ra and one other officer so far, but backup is on the way.”

Glimmer frowned. “Why would they come to a ruin in the middle of Rebellion territory?”

“They’re looking for Entrapta’s runestone.” Catra looked towards the Princess of Dryl, who was still fidgeting with the pad. “Entrapta – aren’t you concerned?”

She looked up. “Why would I be?”

“Uh, don’t you remember what happened to Perfuma and Mermista when the Horde took their runestones? They don’t have powers anymore.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t have a runestone.”

_I thought that was a princess prerequisite._

“OK…” Catra shook her head. “So they’re on a wild goose chase, but if they realize there’s no runestone, I have a feeling they’ll settle for the next best thing – the princess of Dryl, which we have conveniently brought right to them.”

“We need to slow them down so we can find this tech and get out of here before their backup arrives,” said Glimmer.

“I have a plan.” There was a glint in Bow’s eyes. “We’ll need a distraction.”

Catra grinned. “I’ve got you covered.”

**

_Seriously, why would Shadow Weaver send Adora on a stealth mission? She’s way better at punching things than sneaking around._

Catra could hear their approach several minutes before they came into view. Their footsteps were heavy, and the sound of rubble skittering and sliding did make her worry briefly about Bow’s concern that the ruins might unexpectedly collapse.

Finally they entered the corridor where Catra waited, perched high on a broken balcony overlooking the hallway below. Adora looked the same as ever – high collar, high ponytail, sword hilt poking up behind her shoulder.

“Hey, Adora.” Catra called, and she chuckled as Adora nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Wildcat!” Scorpia – a Force Captain whom Catra dimly remembered from a  chance encounter – looked excited as Catra leapt to a lower section of the tilted balcony, allowing her movement to give away her position to the Horde officers.

_Hmmm. I don’t hate that nickname._

Adora looked up at her grimly. “Catra. It’s been a while.”

“It has.” She gestured to Scorpia. “Looks like you made a new friend.”

Adora glanced over at her tall companion. “I did. It’s good to know someone has my back.” Scorpia beamed at her.

Catra flicked an ear and ignored the ugly coil of jealousy that rolled in her stomach.

Adora took a step closer to her perch. “Why are you here?” She raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Or are these rocks yours, too?”

Catra had always hated it when Adora made attempts at sarcasm.

“You’re not the only one with new friends.” Catra flicked a pebble at her. “I’m pals with the owner.”

“You’re friends with a princess?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. After all, I was very close _friends_ with you, wasn’t I, princess?” And the way she emphasized the word ‘friends’ made Adora’s cheeks color even as she scowled, just as Catra had intended. “Besides, I’m friends with lots of princesses these days. I was never the star cadet you were, but I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of an alliance.”

Adora stiffened. “What? You said you didn’t join the Rebellion.”

“And I didn’t—not exactly. But they made me an excellent offer, and we came to an agreement.” She smirked. “Hope you’ve been enjoying the guerilla attacks, by the way.”

“That was _you_?” Adora spluttered for a moment. “And you just… Started helping them for… spite? Or, what, it was convenient for you?”

“Pretty much.”

Adora gave her a look of disgust, and Catra realized that, despite everything, Adora had never quite looked at her with that expression before.

_Guess I finally made an impression._

In the end, Catra wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not.

Adora narrowed her eyes. “Wait… But why are you here _now_? And why are you talking to us?”

_Wow, I can almost hear the rusty machinery ticking away in her head._

Bow gave his signal.

“Me?” She used her sweetest, most innocent tone. “Oh, I’m just here to distract you long enough for my Rebellion friends to get into position.”

Adora and Scorpia both shouted and covered their eyes as Glimmer cast an enormous orb of light between them. Catra calmly leapt to more secure footing while Bow’s sonic arrow brought the ruined walls crumbling into a massive pile of debris, effectively trapping the Force Captains in the corridor and cutting them off from Catra and the Rebellion party.

“Awesome shot, Bow!” Glimmer gave him a quick hug as they regrouped by the newly-fallen rubble. “I admit it, that sonic arrow was actually pretty useful – sorry I made fun of it before.”

Bow grinned at her happily.

“Come on,” Catra interrupted, lending a hand to Entrapta as the princess lowered herself from her hiding spot in the broken ceiling. “Let’s hurry up and find this tech. It won’t take long for She-Ra to smash through that.”

**

Bow kept looking at her as they followed Entrapta’s meandering path through the ruins.

“What?” Catra spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” He glanced at her sidelong. “That was some excellent banter back there.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, good distraction. Though I did kinda wonder if you were ever going to stop talking and let us spring the surprise.”

Catra growled deep in her throat. “I was waiting for _your_ signal.” She scrubbed a hand down her face. “Besides, I wasn’t about to let Adora off easy, especially since she shows up with some giant scorpion lady…”

Glimmer let out an inquisitive hum. “Are you… jealous?”

“Huh? No! That’s dumb.”

“You totally are! You’re jealous!”                    

Catra crossed her arms, curled her tail around one calf, and did not respond.

“Just… how close were you and this Adora person?” Bow asked.

Bow and Glimmer looked at her expectantly. She avoided their gaze, and, to her horror, felt color rise under the light fur on her cheeks. She heard Bow draw in an excited breath while Glimmer exhaled a tiny ‘oh.’

“Whatever. I am _not_ talking about this.”

“But Catraaaaaaaaa.” Bow’s eyes were wide, liquid, and pleading.

“ _NO._ ”

Blessedly, at that moment Catra heard a rumble behind them. “Sounds like She-Ra’s broken through the rocks we dropped on her.”

Entrapta pointed to the screen of her pad. “We’re almost at the lab site. I just need a little more time.”

Glimmer put a hand to Bow’s shoulder. “I’ll teleport us back there to draw them off. Between my magic and Bow’s trick arrows, we should be able to keep them occupied while you two get to the lab. We’ll meet you back here!” They had both disappeared in a flash of light before Catra could protest.

“This way!” called Entrapta, already halfway down the corridor.

Catra caught up to her at a jagged hole in the wall surrounded by twisted metal pieces. “If this map is still correct,” said Entrapta, “this is all that’s left of the entrance to my old lab. Come on!” The princess propelled herself on her hair over the broken threshold and into the room beyond. Catra followed.

The lab was an absolute mess. The roof of what must once have been a cavernous room had fallen in. The space overhead felt cramped, and broken rafters stabbed down into the room. Heaps of shattered computer equipment and frayed wires littered the floor. Catra felt a little claustrophobic.

“We don’t have much time,” she whispered to Entrapta, who was already digging clamorously through a pile of burnt out parts. “Do you mind telling me exactly what I’m looking for?”

“I had several pieces of First One’s tech here in the lab, all brought up from Dryl’s mines.” Entrapta’s voice was muffled by the mountain of busted tech she was burrowing in. “The tech has some very distinctive designs that should make it easily distinguishable from everything else here.”

The rubble by Entrapta shifted, and something tumbled out to land at Catra’s feet – a faceted, triangular device glowing faintly crimson. Catra picked it up. Etched into the surface was a series of lines and interconnected circles – it reminded her of the pattern on Adora’s sword.

“You mean designs like this?”

Entrapta’s head emerged from the pile of junk, and her eyes went wide. “The First Ones’ disc.” She bounded closer on her hair. “That was the focus of the experiment that turned my robots against me. It was infected with some sort of virus that spread to my own technological designs. It seems to be dormant, now. Fascinating.” She reached for the disc, but Catra held it up out of her reach.

“Let’s look for something else. Maybe bringing the murdervirus that ultimately led to the destruction of your entire kingdom to Brightmoon _isn’t_ the best idea.”

“But I want to study it…”

Catra whirled as she caught the sound of heavy footsteps behind them. There in the ruined doorway was Adora, impossible breeze ruffling She-Ra’s impossible hair, her sword levelled at them. “Drop it, Catra, and stay where you are.”

“Entrapta, find a way out of here.” The princess nodded and, thankfully, did as she was told without further comment, sliding into the low, broken rafters on her hair.

Catra put one hand on her hip, striking a casually disinterested pose. “Nice try, Adora, but I don’t take orders from you anymore, remember?” She did a quick survey of her environment, calculating her escape routes. She didn’t particularly fancy squaring off against She-Ra in a place that might collapse at any moment. “Where’s your friend?”

“Same place as your two favorite people.”

Catra hoped Glimmer and Bow could handle Scorpia on their own.

She met Adora’s eyes with a sardonic look. “Aw, Princess, you came after me special?”

“Of course I did.” The sincerity in Adora’s voice took Catra off guard. She flicked an ear as Adora continued. “Catra please, this has to stop.” The tip of her sword wavered. “I know you don’t want to come h— back to the Fright Zone, but working with the Rebellion?” Adora furrowed her brow. “I don’t want to have to fight you – please, just stop before this gets out of hand.” 

Catra lashed her tail. “You don’t get to ask things of me anymore.”

“Then don’t do it for me. _Look_ at this place, Catra.” Adora gestured to the rubble surrounding them. “All of this destruction, so many lives ruined, because one person – one princess – couldn’t control her power.”

“Why is it _this_ upsets you, but not the lives that Shadow Weaver destroys?”

Adora’s face crumpled with uncertainty, and she stared for a moment at her sword. “I know Shadow Weaver is… she’s not… She was too hard on you – she wasn’t… _isn’t_ fair.” Adora swallowed hard. “And she doesn’t always tell the truth.”

Catra raised an eyebrow.

_Congratulations, Adora, you’ve taken the smallest possible step towards not being a total idiot._

Adora’s grip on the sword tightened again. “But it’s not just about Shadow Weaver. And it’s not just about me. Nothing is fair, and this fight is bigger than us, Catra—you’ve never been able to see that.” She raised the point of the sword. “And I can’t make excuses for you anymore. If you don’t stop on your own, I’ll make you stop.”

Catra did not attempt to repress the bitter chuckle that escaped her. “So we’re right back where we started.”

“Only if you want us to be.”

Catra thought back to the moonlit causeway where Adora had drawn the sword on her for the first time.

_Not right where we started._

Because this time, Adora’s face was a little more resolute. This time, Adora wouldn’t hold back. This time, Adora was She-Ra.

Catra locked her gaze to Adora’s for a moment, felt the air around them almost thicken with anticipation of her next move, with the sense that whatever happened next was going to change things irrevocably.

With a snarl, Catra leapt upwards, pushing off a nearby pile of rubble with one foot. The debris slid and tumbled, and the commotion brought down a small section of the ceiling. Adora sidestepped the falling metal, her large form still blocking the doorway. Catra tried to jump up and away – but there was no up under the collapsed rafters. She-Ra, eight feet tall and radiating darkness in her black cape and charcoal tunic, dominated the enclosed space. Catra actually felt the brush of wind from She-Ra’s sword as Adora swung at her. She spun away, but miscalculated the cramped distance, and crashed into another pile of machine parts. Gritting her teeth against the pain of a few deep scratches from the scrapped metal, she climbed gracelessly to the top of the pile, eyes straining to find the route Entrapta must have taken to escape. Adora reached up easily – the tower of discarded parts rose only a few feet over She-Ra’s head – grasped Catra’s collar, and threw her back down.

Catra growled in frustration as she hit the floor. Her speed was useless if she had nowhere to go. Adora knew this, and was smart enough to continue blocking the exits.

_I’m not getting out of here unless I go through her._

She kicked off the ground with all the force she had, teeth bared and one hand ready to slash with claws fully extended as she aimed herself towards Adora’s face.

It didn’t work.

She-Ra’s fist collided solidly with Catra’s sternum and she fell, winded, flat on her back. She pushed herself backwards, propped herself against the jagged remnants of one of Entrapta’s machines as she tried to catch her breath. Adora stepped forward and leveled the sword at her chest, looking down at her with an iron expression.

“Don’t move.”

It was all too familiar, like every training exercise, every misstep, every failure. Catra always ended up here, crushed into the ground with Adora standing over her.

Catra always ended up like this.

_Powerless._

She looked up, met Adora’s eyes. The expression on her face was as stubborn as ever. She had a mission to complete, a destiny to fulfill.

_This is really it, then. I could have just stayed in the Fright Zone if this is how things were going to end, anyway._

The heat of Catra’s anger seared from her stomach through the back of her throat, and every muscle tensed with rage. She didn’t want to wait for Adora to finish it, to bring the sword across those few inches that gaped between them. If Catra had control over one thing in her life, it should be this.

She yowled in angry desperation and struck at the sword with one hand. She didn’t have a plan, just wanted to knock Adora off balance, or bat the sword away – anything not to die like this under She-Ra’s boot.

She and Adora were both startled by the clang of her fist connecting with the sword. She had forgotten Entrapta’s disc, clutched tightly in her hand throughout the fight, and the sound it made as it hit the sword echoed through the ruined lab.

There was a flash of blinding white light, and Adora cried out and stumbled backwards. Catra whipped back to her feet, finally catching her breath, her claws digging into the surface of the disc. She-Ra stood, a white glow surrounding her dark form, every muscle transfixed in some kind of rigor, her knuckles pale where she clenched the sword in one hand. She-Ra’s image flickered for a moment, like a sputtering hologram, and Adora appeared, small and all too human, briefly rooted to the same spot. With another cry, she transformed into She-Ra again in another burst of white light.

She looked different.

Still frozen to the spot, She-Ra rose to her full height, still blond and blue-eyed, but now clad all in shining white and gold. The bloody sigil of Hordak’s wings had disappeared from her chest, replaced by a golden insignia.

_I remember her._

This was the She-Ra of Adora’s first transformation in the Whispering Woods.

She-Ra hefted the sword, mouth almost lifting into a smile until her eyes caught at the shard of the Black Garnet forced into its hilt. The shard pulsated with a bright crimson light, different from its ordinary, shadowed hue. She-Ra’s face twisted with horror as crystalline, red veins grew from the stone, snaked over the sword and up her arms.

Adora screamed and collapsed in a searing flash of red.

When Catra’s eyes cleared, Adora, still wearing the body and unfamiliar white and gold costume of She-Ra, was crouched by one of the collapsed walls with her head down, breathing heavily.

The doorway was wide open.

Catra eyed She-Ra warily, and edged towards the exit. She froze as Adora let out a wordless roar and stood to face her.

She-Ra’s eyes were wild and red. The thick scarlet tendrils still snaked over the sword, across her hands, and up her arms. She charged Catra, swinging the sword wildly. It collided with several piles of broken parts which all scattered across the floor, and the ceiling began to shake unsteadily.

“Adora, wait—”

Catra had barely lifted a foot to start running when she felt something wrap around her midriff, and she was lifted up into the ceiling, out of She-Ra’s wild path.

“Thanks, Entrapta,” Catra gasped as the princess set her down with a pigtail on one of the trembling rafters.

“Not a problem, but we should probably get out of here before the entire structure of this room collapses. Follow me – I found a passage out while you were fighting.”

There was a crash below them as She-Ra collided with a wall. Catra shoved the First One’s disc in her pocket and followed Entrapta as she scuttled into the remnants of an air vent.

They exited the ventilation system near the spot they had parted ways with Bow and Glimmer. There was a shower of sparks as the two Rebels teleported nearby.

“Oh,” said Glimmer, surprised. “You’re already here.”

“Where’s Scorpia?”

Bow grinned. “She’s a little tied up at the moment thanks to one of my net arrows.”

Glimmer smiled at him, then turned back to Catra. “But we didn’t even see She-Ra.”

“Yeah, she caught up to us in the lab.”

Entrapta’s eyes gleamed. “And things got _weird!_ ”

Catra pulled the disc from her pocket. “It was this. I hit her sword with it and…”

_And I have no idea what happened then._

“Fascinating!” Entrapta reached for the disc, but Catra tightened her grip on it and pulled it closer. Entrapta raised her eyebrows in surprise but did not reach for it again. “She-Ra’s sword must be First One’s tech. It looks like her sword became infected with the same virus as my robots.”

Glimmer gave an exasperated sigh. “What exactly does any of that mean?”

She-Ra burst through the wall behind them.

With a panicked shriek, Glimmer grabbed Bow and teleported the two of them further down the corridor. Catra took hold of Entrapta’s wrist and pulled her quickly out of the path of Adora’s sword. She pushed Entrapta in front of her as they ran to join Glimmer and Bow while She-Ra grunted and struggled to pull her sword from where it had lodged in the broken floor.

“That’s what it means,” shouted Catra. “We can talk about it later. Right now we need to run.”

And run they did. She-Ra finally freed her sword and followed them, laughing haggardly.

“If we destroy the tech,” panted Bow, “will she get less angry?”

“Possibly!” Entrapta glanced over her shoulder. “It’s also possible that we simply need to separate She-Ra from the sword, though I would like to study the effects—”

“We’ll destroy it,” said Glimmer decisively.

Catra tightened her grip on the disc.

Scorpia caught up with them as they desperately made their way back out into Dryl’s deserted town square. The large woman blocked their path, claws held up dangerously. Frayed fragments of Bow’s net still hung from the pointed armor covering her shoulders.

“Stop right there.” They split to either side of her, not slowing their pace, to reveal She-Ra charging behind them. “Woah, Adora, what are you—” She-Ra did not slow, raising the sword over her head and roaring as she neared Scorpia. “Adora, stop!” The sword met Scorpia’s armored claws with a horrendous screech. She-Ra pulled away to swing the sword again, and Scorpia grappled with her.

Bow looked horrified. “Why is she attacking her own person?”

_Adora’s not in control._

Catra looked again at the red disc in her hand, and her upper lip pulled back over her incisors in a barbaric grin.

_She’d attack_ anyone _right now._

Her eyes flicked back to the two large Horde soldiers straining against each other. If Entrapta was right, and they just needed to separate Adora from her sword…

_There’s four of us and only two of them. One if She-Ra takes care of the other Force Captain for us._

It would be easy to get Adora back to Brightmoon and into a cell.

Glimmer teleported to Catra’s side, stumbling a bit as she materialized. “What are you waiting for? Destroy that thing so she stops attacking us!”

Catra tightened her grip over the disc again and met Glimmer’s eyes. “No.”

Something in Catra’s face made Glimmer take a step back, her own face twisting with worry and confusion. “What do you mean?”

_I’ve got control of Adora – I am not giving that up._

“Look at her, Glimmer. You were right – we can use She-Ra as a weapon. We just need to take her sword, get her back to Brightmoon, and make her fight for us. The Horde won’t stand a chance against _that_.”

She-Ra was raining blow after blow onto Scorpia, who crouched with her claws held defensively over her head. Each strike against the woman’s armor caused a screech that rang through the square.

_I could make Adora annihilate Shadow Weaver like this._

No more pleading, no more explanations – she wouldn’t have to try to make Adora listen anymore because Adora wouldn’t have a choice. One touch of the disc to that stupid sword, and Adora would finally do what Catra needed her to do. Adora would finally use the power she’d been given for something worthwhile.

_I won’t be powerless anymore._

Glimmer’s face was overcome with an expression of horror, and her voice was high and strained as she shouted, “Catra are you insane? If you don’t stop this, she’s going to kill us all!”

As if to illustrate her point, She-Ra knocked Scorpia aside like a rag doll and turned to charge at them. She swung the sword wildly, another haggard laugh escaping her lips. Glimmer shrieked and teleported herself to where Bow stood at the other end of the square, and Entrapta retreated up a pile of rubble on her hair as She-Ra brought the sword crashing down where she’d been standing moments before. She-Ra tugged the sword free of the broken flagstones, and her gaze fell on Catra.

Catra leapt up past She-Ra’s shoulder, as she had done so many times before, expecting to sail over her head to relative safety, but this wild She-Ra was faster than Adora. She shot a hand out and caught Catra’s ankle as she flew past, and before Catra could fully process what was happening, she was slammed into the hard stone ground, the breath exploded from her lungs, and the disc skittered out of her hand towards Scorpia.

“Destroy it!” called Bow. “That’s what was making She-Ra attack you!”

“No,” Catra croaked with wasted breath. Scorpia lifted one large claw and brought it crashing down onto the disc, which shattered into several pieces.

“No,” she whispered again.

There under Scorpia’s claw lay the shattered pieces of the key to getting everything she’d ever wanted – control, and safety, and Adora, and Shadow Weaver gone.

There was a thud beside her as Adora – all trace of She-Ra disappeared – landed heavily. The sword, free of the blood-red tendrils of the virus’ corruption, clattered to the ground as well, the shard of the Black Garnet in its hilt glaring up at them like an angry eye.

Even fighting back the furious tears that crowded the corners of her eyes, Catra couldn’t help but notice Adora’s frailty. Where only a moment ago had been the towering, raging She-Ra was Adora, small and pale and trembling, close enough for Catra to reach out and touch, if she chose. As Adora shifted and raised her head from the broken ground, Catra saw that her lips were chapped, as though she’d fallen back into her old habit of chewing them. She chanced a look towards Adora’s hands – the skin around her nails looked raw, too. She’d been picking at her nails again – she hadn’t done that since they were junior cadets.

Adora raised a shaking hand to rub her face. “What… happened?” She looked to Catra with wide eyes, her features contorted into an expression that it took Catra a few moments to place.

_Fear._

“Catra—” Adora reached for her.

But Scorpia hoisted Adora onto one armored shoulder and the sword onto the other, and they were gone before Catra could respond.

Catra’s stomach twisted unpleasantly.

_Adora was afraid._

**

After Entrapta gathered up the shards of the disc, the group made their way out of the ruins of Dryl in a heavy silence. Even Entrapta seemed to notice that something was wrong, and refrained from voicing any of her theories about the First Ones tech’s effects on She-Ra.

Glimmer made it all the way down the mountain and back to the woods before she exploded.

“What _was_ that, Catra?!”

Catra refused to look at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about how you almost got us all killed today!”

“Um,” Bow’s voice cracked. “I’m gonna go… gather firewood! To make camp! Entrapta you’re coming with me!”

“But I wanna watch—”

“Nope. Coming with me.” Bow practically dragged Entrapta away with him.

Catra finally met Glimmer’s eyes, and they glared at each other as the sound of Entrapta’s protests faded.

“Well?”

Catra crossed her arms and lashed her tail. “I was trying to get a weapon for your Rebellion.”

“No you weren’t! That had nothing to do with the Rebellion and everything to do with you and your—” She flapped a hand towards Catra. “And she might fight for the Horde, but Adora is a _person_ , not a weapon. You can’t just—” She spluttered angrily. “Weren’t you two—” Catra raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you _care_ about her?”

“The last thing I need is a lecture from you about my relationship with Adora. You don’t know anything about it.”

“Because you don’t tell us anything! You just expect us all to tiptoe around whatever your issue is until it comes back to bite us, like it did today.” Glimmer put a hand to her temple and let out an exasperated sigh. “What it boils down to is that you could’ve gotten hurt. You could’ve gotten one of _us_ hurt. And then where would the Alliance be? You can’t just _do_ things like that—how can I make you understand that your actions have consequences for other people?”

And suddenly transposed over Glimmer’s face there was Adora’s, staring at her with the most infuriating concern.

_‘Why do you keep getting yourself into these situations? ...I have to be better at keeping you in line.’_  

Catra growled.

“Well don’t you sound exactly like Angella.”

“What?”

It was so easy, now, to press at those open wounds Glimmer had shown her over the past few weeks.

“Just because you’re too afraid to do what has to be done doesn’t mean you can stop me.”

“This is different!”

“No it isn’t. You have to be willing to do this kind of thing if you want to win.”

“No, Catra. We don’t fight like that. We’re not _them_.”

“I am! This is what they raised me to be.” Catra’s fur was bristling now. “If you were expecting anything else, you asked the wrong person to join your alliance.”

“Catra—”

“Maybe if you weren’t so weak, such a disappointment, Angella would actually listen to you and you wouldn’t constantly be losing.”

Glimmer had no response to that. She bit her lower lip, and Catra could see the beginnings of tears welling at the corners of the princess’ eyes.

“Go back to Brightmoon on your own. I need some space.” Catra scaled the nearest tree and fled, mindless, through the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No scorpions were harmed in the making of this chapter.


	7. Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora panics.
> 
> Shadow Weaver is up to some shady shit.

“Adora, please let me take you to the med bay.”

“No Scorpia, put me down.” The moment Scorpia stepped from their skiff onto solid metal flooring, Adora twisted in an attempt to get Scorpia to drop her. Her face burned – why did every mission seem to end with Scorpia carrying her back to the Fright Zone?

Scorpia shifted to keep Adora from falling out of her arms, but then lowered her gently to stand on her own two feet. Though her legs were a little shaky, Adora began walking immediately, headed for the exit from the skiff bay. Scorpia followed her, clicking her claws together worriedly.

“Adora…”

“I’ll be fine. I probably just need to get to the Black Garnet to recharge.” She didn’t feel weak, though, not in the same way she did when she was low on power. She felt cold, and her heartbeat was irregular. She crossed her arms tightly as she walked and lowered her voice. “I didn’t know She-Ra could get sick like that.”

“Which is exactly why you should go to the med bay!”

“No. We need to report to Shadow Weaver.”

Scorpia crossed over in front of Adora, barring her path. “That can wait – she’ll understand if you need medical attention first.”

Adora uncrossed her arms, squeezed her hands into fists at her sides. “No she won’t.” She brushed past Scorpia and continued down the corridor. After a moment, she heard Scorpia’s heavy footsteps behind her once more.

The door of the Black Garnet chamber was open when they arrived, and Adora went straight in without pausing. Shadow Weaver turned with surprise as she heard them enter, straightening from where she leaned over the Salinean Pearl and letting inky magic drip away from her hands to race across the surface of the runestone like oil.

“Adora, you’ve returned sooner than I—”

“The mission was a failure.” Adora’s voice was too loud, her posture incorrect – she had not saluted. She had just interrupted Shadow Weaver.

She didn’t care, or, at the very least, couldn’t stop herself – fear and panic both galloped headlong at the back of her throat, pushing the words out in a strident tumble.

She felt Scorpia shift behind her. “Adora…” she whispered.

Shadow Weaver lifted an arm to point to the door. Her voice rang like iron. “Leave us, Force Captain Scorpia.”

“Um…”

The air darkened around them, and Shadow Weaver loomed taller. “I said _go_.”

Scorpia went, and the door crashed shut behind her.

Adora rubbed the edge of her thumbnails against her index fingers and spoke too loudly again. “The Rebellion was there. They did something to She-Ra…”

“Adora.” Shadow Weaver drew close, clamped a hand on Adora’s shoulder. The pressure grounded her, made her freeze though she wanted to pull away, and something broke.

“Catra did something.”

Shadow Weaver drew back but kept her icy hand on Adora’s shoulder. “Catra?”

“She was with them.” Adora heaved a dry sob – she had started now, and couldn’t stop. “She’s… She’s been with them.” She was so tired, and maybe if she got rid of this secret, some of the weight would leave her and she would be able to control herself again. Maybe she could pass this knowledge – that Catra was gone and angry and that the sword was dangerous – to someone who knew what to do with it. “She’s allied herself to Brightmoon. She’s the one who rescued the Salinean princess, too. I… I lied to you.”

Shadow Weaver brought her free hand to Adora’s other shoulder, her cold grip tight. Adora dared not look up into her mask, stared instead at an unfamiliar ornament on the sorceress’ chest – a four-pointed badge studded with what Adora first took to be gems, until she recognized them as bits of runestone – shards of dark Black Garnet, pink Heart Blossom, and bluish white Pearl glowing at three of the four points.

“Your dishonesty is… disappointing.” Adora squeezed her eyes shut, and she felt her shoulders clench in anticipation.

Catra had often disappointed Shadow Weaver. Adora had a fairly good idea of what would come next. She tried not to flinch as she waited for the flash of magic.

“But this situation might be turned to our advantage.” Adora’s eyelids popped open in surprise, and she caught the multicolored shimmer of the runestone shards on Shadow Weaver’s chest again. “Adora, you must tell me exactly what Catra did to She-Ra.” Finally Adora braved a glance upwards. Shadow Weaver’s tone, and the quirk of her eyes in the mask, did not seem angry – rather, she seemed… intrigued.

“There was… She had some kind of device. It infected She-Ra, and I couldn’t… I attacked Scorpia. I was out of control.” Adora dropped her head.

Shadow Weaver’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “Where is this device now?”

“Scorpia destroyed it.”

“And Catra was responsible for this – you are absolutely sure?” Adora shut her eyes tightly again to trap the tears she felt welling there. She thought of the wild, desperate look on Catra’s snarling face as she had crashed the device into She-Ra’s sword, the bitterness emanating from her like a cloud when Adora fell beside her. Adora nodded once.

“And all the guerilla attacks. She’s the one who’s been planning them.”

There was a pause, and Shadow Weaver lifted one cold hand.

“Oh Adora, how did you let this happen?” Shadow Weaver stroked her hair, and Adora tried, not for the first time, to understand how being smothered and being comforted felt so connected. “Not to worry.” She pointed Adora towards the door. “Leave me, now.” She turned back to the runestones, put her hands on either side of the basin that sat atop a tall pedestal. “I will fix this.”

A chill raced up Adora’s spine as she heard Shadow Weaver chuckle behind her.

**

Adora stared dully at the floor as the door of the Black Garnet chamber hissed shut at her back and ignored the beginnings of a headache. She remained there for a few moments, breathing quietly, then abruptly lifted her head and began walking briskly.

Scorpia must have been waiting for her. She intercepted Adora’s path at the first junction of corridors by the Black Garnet chamber.

“Adora! What did Shadow Weaver say?”

Adora walked straight past her without a word and without making eye contact. She didn’t have enough energy to deal with Scorpia’s enthusiasm right now.

Scorpia followed her. “Hey, wait up!” She managed to stay quiet for a few minutes until Adora took another turn. “Um, Adora? Both your quarters and the med bay are in _that_ direction.” She pointed a claw behind them.

“I’m not going to the med bay.”

“OK, but the only thing down this hall…” Scorpia stopped short. “Adora, you’re not going to _train_ right now, are you?”

Adora didn’t answer her, kept walking.

“You need to rest! Or you need to let one of the medics figure out what happened to you today!”

Adora stopped and turned, putting a hand to one throbbing temple. “What I need, Scorpia, is for you to leave me alone.”

Scorpia’s face fell.

Adora sighed and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” She chanced a look up at Scorpia again, “I just… Want to hit something, OK?” She cut Scorpia off as she opened her mouth. “And I don’t want it to be you.”

Scorpia shot her a sad half-smile. “OK pal.” She put a claw to Adora’s shoulder. “Just take care of yourself, please. And let me know if you need anything.”

Adora returned the smile half-heartedly and put a hand on Scorpia’s claw. “Thanks.”

Scorpia left her with a small wave, and Adora found herself an empty training room.

**

Paper crinkled under her fist as she hit the punching bag. Someone had pasted a picture of the Rebellion leader to its side. Adora remembered doing something similar when she was a cadet – before she knew she was a princess.

She swung a swift kick into the side of the bag, and it squeaked as she let it rock for a moment. The fanged, grinning face of the pastel-winged princess advanced and retreated with each swing of the bag, leering evilly at her.

Adora sucked in a sharp breath and threw her flagging muscles behind another punch that landed square on the princess’ paper face.

Something in the positioning of her hand was wrong, and she grimaced as two of her fingers jammed painfully – a stupid mistake, one she hadn’t made since she was a junior cadet.

What was the point of all her years of training if she was just going to lose control like this?

She massaged her sore hand and turned to glare at the sword where it sat propped, unused, against the wall. She wondered, briefly, what her life might have been if she had never touched the sword, if she’d never stolen that skiff in a childish attempt to impress Catra.

Could it really be that different? Even before the sword, she had always felt pulled by forces greater than herself, always driven by or to a purpose with no real choice in the matter at all. And even without the sword, she was still a princess, wasn’t she? Sooner or later, her true nature would have come through.

She shivered, thinking of angry red tendrils snaking up her arms.

Adora’s massaging hand tightened over her jammed fingers, thrusting them back into their aching joints again until the pain manifested as white bursts behind her eyes. Blinding white like that light…

She had enjoyed it.

For one shining moment in Dryl she had felt herself expanding – a glowing energy shot to the tips of her fingers and toes, to the ends of her hair. She was light and power itself. There had been transformation without redirection, without pain. The weight that had pressed in on her for months had disappeared, and, for the first time in her life, Adora felt like she could breathe.

But not quite for the first time… There was that other, brief transformation in the woods, when she had touched that uncontrollable light and fallen out of She-Ra’s form almost immediately.

She released her grip and leaned against the punching bag as her vision cleared.

She couldn’t remember much of what had happened after that moment, after looking down to see the horrible wrongness of her sword. Then, everything had been wild movement and violent instinct. She knew that she had tried to hurt Scorpia. She knew that she had tried to hurt Catra.

She knew that Catra had tried to hurt her.

But some part of it had felt so _right_.

The pastel paper princess sneered into her face. Adora dug her aching fingers into the paper and tore it roughly from the bag.

What kind of monster was she?

**

Finally, exhausted and bruised, Adora returned to her room. She tossed the sword carelessly to the floor, ignoring the wire rack that was its customary resting place. She threw herself into bed and, for a moment, hoped desperately that the sword would send her a vision – anything that would instruct her, help her learn to control herself… But the sword had been wrong before, hadn’t it? It had told her that Catra was dead.

Not only was the sword dangerous and uncontrollable, it was untrustworthy – it couldn’t help her right now.

She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling as her body refused to relax into sleep. Finally, she sat up and slid off the side of the bed to land on the floor with a bump.

She kicked at the sword where it lay by her foot. The ragged hunk of runestone in its hilt glared back at her, almost the same red color as those horrible veins of infection that had run up her arms earlier that day.

On a whim, she grabbed at the hilt, pulling it into her lap and bringing her face close to the runestone shard. Through its rough facets, she could just make out the original, smooth stone inlaid into the hilt. It seemed to gleam pointedly at her. She pressed at the jagged red rock covering it – nothing moved. The Black Garnet was fused to the hilt as though it had been there since the day the sword was forged.

Adora threw the weapon away from her, and it clattered across the floor to land by a pipe jutting from the wall.

She was really starting to hate the sword.

She drew her knees in tight to her chest and hid her face in her arms. In that cramped position, she fell asleep.

**

_It’s not a vision. She’s sure of this. It’s almost too vivid, certainly too detailed, and there is no pillar of shadow strangling her with the destiny she didn’t ask for._

_It’s worse._

_She is She-Ra. Her hands are covered in ash and worse, matching the charcoal and red of her uniform. The air is thick with smoke and the burnt-ozone smell of weapons fire. The roiling clouds of smoke vibrate with the distant sound of a choked scream, which cuts off abruptly._

_Thaymor._

_‘I told you we’re not the good guys, Adora.’ She spins, sliding on the churned mud underfoot, to see Catra, hair cascading around and into her face as it always is these days, stepping through a burnt-out doorway._

_Adora notices her sword lying half-buried in ash on the ground by her feet. She scoops it up quickly, aims it threateningly at Catra. It is far heavier than she remembers, and her arms tremble with the effort of holding it up._

_‘Looks like you’re having a little trouble.’ Catra giggles, but then her face goes deadly serious and sincere. ‘Do you want some help?’_

_‘You aren’t here to help,’ Adora growls. ‘You’re fighting for the Rebellion.’_

_‘Still not listening to me, huh?’ Catra sighs and gestures to the destruction around them. ‘When are you going to stop hurting people, Adora?’_

_Tears sting Adora’s eyes as she struggles to breathe in the smoke-thick air. ‘I did this for Etheria.’_

_‘Sure you did.’ And Catra is laughing again._

_The sword jerks in Adora’s hands, draws her forward, and she is not in control of her limbs as she moves faster than She-Ra has ever been able to move, as she knocks Catra to the mud-slick ground, as she holds the tip of the sword inches over Catra’s chest._

_Catra stares up at her, unsurprised. ‘If you’re not in control, then who is?’_

_Adora cannot answer, and the sword becomes impossibly heavy, its tip sinking lower though everything in Adora screams for it to_ stop _. She cannot hold it up any longer, cannot rip her hands away from the hilt, and it keeps sinking, does not stop until it reaches the other side of Catra with a sickening_ crunch.

_Adora is finally able to let go, then, and she retches into the ash._

_There is a slow clap behind her, and she turns, coughing and gasping, to see Catra again. The ruin of Catra she just made is still transfixed on the ground next to her, silent and glassy-eyed, and Adora sees that this new Catra looks different. Her hair is tamed as it can be behind her old headguard, and her Horde uniform is miraculously free of rips as it has never, never been. She is sitting atop a heap of smoking rubble, legs crossed nonchalantly as though she has not just seen Adora murder her doppelganger._

_‘Well done, Adora.’ She smirks, and her voice is lower than the other Catra’s – a smooth drop of iron. ‘Lord Hordak thanks you.’_

_Adora is shaking. ‘Catra—’_

_Catra stops her with an upraised hand. ‘Don’t worry.’ She leans forward, and the rough lines of Hordak’s insignia branded on her arm stand out, livid, from her fur. ‘Etheria won’t forget what you did here today.’_

_Adora falls to her knees as Catra begins to chuckle. Catra’s body darkens and elongates, and she rises from her seat on the rubble as a thick, oily shadow. Her shape melds with the clouds of smoke surrounding them, and Catra becomes indistinguishable from the destruction of Thaymor._

 


	8. Core Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ouch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get two updates in as many days! Still trying to finish this before Season 3 drops - it might actually happen.

Chapter Eight: Core Shadow

Catra avoided Brightmoon.

She missed at least two previously-scheduled meetings of the Princess Alliance – let them wage their sorry war without her for a while. She wanted to be on her own turf for a change.

_They can come to me._

Catra avoided Brightmoon, even though loneliness pressed in on her like walls, flickered like shadows in the corners of her eyes.

She stopped sleeping at night entirely, napping through the day instead. She resumed her all-night ravages through the tree tops, yowling wordlessly at the moons. She was in her element, and yet still those shadows haunted her.

It wasn’t until a week after returning from Dryl that she realized the shadows weren’t in her imagination.  

She was crouched on a low branch, examining the way the moonlight cut through the leaves above her, when she noticed the dark shape wriggling and slithering against the tree’s trunk. She shifted to look at it straight on, fur prickling and muscles tensing, and hissed as the shadow turned a glowing red eye to her.

_She can’t be here._

Her first instinct was to climb, to get to the treetops where she could move the fastest. She spun away from the shadow and scrambled up through the branches, her heart racing as she heard an unmistakable dry chuckle behind her. She saw more red-eyed shadows swarming as she reached the highest branches and leapt desperately for the next tree. Her body hung momentarily, arcing in the moonlight – she was nearly there, nearly there—

Something biting cold wrapped around her ankle and whipped her backwards. She tumbled down, all momentum lost, and crashed through the branches she had just climbed. She managed to push herself off a few of them to soften the landing, but she still lost her breath as she slammed into the ground.

_How did she find me?_

A wall of shadow circled, shutting out the woods, and Shadow Weaver’s figure loomed before her. Catra caught her breath, and, snarling, she leapt with claws outstretched. She rent only shadow and air, and passed through the image of the wraith.

Shadow Weaver laughed. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work this time.” She lifted one darkly transparent arm and three inky bolts flew from her hand. They slammed into Catra’s body, knocking her breath away and bowling her over once more.

_That’s a new trick._

She curled herself into a defensive ball on the ground.

She felt like a child again.

Was this really how it was going to end – powerless and alone, cowering in front of Shadow Weaver like she had so many times growing up? She felt that same desperation that had raged in her as she looked up at Adora over She-Ra’s sword in Dryl – much stronger now that it had been then.

_No. Not cowering._

Fighting every childhood instinct, she uncoiled her body and stood. She fluffed out her fur, extended her claws, bared her teeth, and hissed, “I hope you weren’t expecting me to die without a fight.”

Shadow Weaver laughed again, and the dark walls pulled in closer around them. “Ah Catra, I’m not here to kill you.” Her form shrank down from a looming pillar to something resembling her actual height. “I’m here to talk.”

This was a blow Catra had not been expecting. “Talk?” Her claws half-retracted and her fur smoothed somewhat in surprise. “What is there to discuss? You hate me and you want me dead.”

“No.”

Catra laughed.

_What’s her angle here?_

“You’ve always hated me.”

“No, Catra.” Her voice was soft and calm, so different from the hard-edged, metallic tone that could still make Catra flinch. “You remind me of myself. You always have. Things were never easy for me, either. Why should it be any different for you?” Shadow Weaver’s dark, colorless form seemed to solidify. “Like you, I wasn’t born to power – I had to earn it.”

Catra balled her hands into fists, her half-extended claws pricking her palms. “I was a child when you took me in – what could I have possibly done to deserve the way you treated me?”

“What you deserved had nothing to do with it. I wanted you to be strong – I wanted you to understand the value of power because you had none. I wanted you to learn to grasp whatever power you could and wield it to your own advantage… And you have.”

_I think I preferred it when I thought she was trying to kill me._

“I’m nothing like you.”

“You are exactly like me.” Shadow Weaver chuckled and folded her hands delicately in front of her, the very picture of amused patience. “You learned to survive, didn’t you? You learned to use Adora for your own protection.”

Catra squeezed her fists tighter. “She didn’t protect me. Not always. Not from you.”

“No, but still you managed to influence her.” Shadow Weaver began to glide in a slow circle around Catra, musing. “Did you know she’s been lying to me ever since you left? Keeping your whereabouts, your exploits a secret from me so I wouldn’t try to find you?” She stopped, and pale eyes narrowed in the mask. “I’ll admit I had all but given up on you – I thought you really had just run away from all of this – until Adora returned from Dryl. She told me how you allied yourself to the Rebellion, how you wielded power over her. I was so proud.”

Catra’s stomach churned, her face burning. She had taught herself to hate Shadow Weaver, and yet, when it came down to it, her approval still meant _something_ , filled some empty space in her she’d been living with for so long she had forgotten it was there.

Catra swallowed hard and did not speak.

“I’ve been watching the Rebellion, these last few days. They do seem lost without you.”

_Since when is she strong enough to send magical spies directly into Brightmoon?_

“I am truly impressed, Catra.” Shadow Weaver began her slow circle again. “Not only did you ally yourself to the most powerful kingdom you could find and make yourself an invaluable asset to them, you managed to rope the entire Rebellion into your personal vendetta against Adora.”

“That’s not…” Catra hated that she stumbled over the words. “It isn’t about her.”

Shadow Weaver chuckled again. “Isn’t it?”

_Something in my life has to not be about her._

“The Rebellion… they’re… they’re my friends,” she finished lamely.

That dry chuckle once more. “Ah Catra, people like us don’t have friends. The Rebellion is a means to an end. They are your tools, your weapons, just like Adora was.”

“Adora’s not…” Catra’s face burned again. “She was never…”

“Of course she was. You can’t lie to me about _that_ , Catra. I’m the one who taught you how to use her, after all.” Her voice dipped suggestively. “Don’t pretend you didn’t do your _utmost_ to get her to side with you against me. Or did you convince yourself you actually cared about her?”

The memory of every kiss she shared with Adora turned to twice-bitter ash on Catra’s lips.

“I commend your strategy, and perhaps under other circumstances, it might have worked. That sword has truly been a blessing – having a direct psychic link to Adora makes it so much easier to keep her focused on the mission, free of the distractions of personal feelings or moral apprehensions.”

_Adora was afraid._

Catra’s stomach flopped. “So, what, you’ve been mind-controlling Adora this whole time?”

“Of course not. Nothing as heavy-handed as that. But a vision sent in dreams – and imbued with destiny, no less – is just as effective. Adora is so much easier to control when she believes she’s protecting someone – better yet an entire planet – don’t you think?”

_Adora never mentioned dreams._

Catra thought of the rhythm of Adora’s breathing as they slept, how it had, sometimes, abruptly taken off at a gallop. She remembered the way Adora had always reached out to her, at the end of each day, with such need – how tight her embrace had been.

_Of course she didn’t._

Catra crossed her arms over her chest. “So why did you come out here to find me?”

“I already told you. I wanted to talk.”

“We’ve been talking, but you still haven’t asked for anything. Do you think I’m an idiot? If you’re not here to kill me, then you must want something.”

It was difficult to tell because of the mask, but Catra could swear that Shadow Weaver actually _smiled_.

“Honestly? Between what Adora told me and what I saw in Brightmoon, you have finally proven that you gleaned something from my… lessons. You are finally worth my effort.” Shadow Weaver stopped her predatory circling. “Now, I think it’s time you returned to the Fright Zone.” She stayed motionless as Catra laughed out loud. “You must think strategically about your next move. How long before the Rebellion sees your true nature?”

“What…” Catra’s face fell. “What does that mean?”

“I, too, once lived in the world of princesses. They were less than appreciative of my methods. They did not understand the true value of power, and the lengths one must be willing to go to seize it.” Shadow Weaver came closer, and Catra’s mind was buzzing so much she forgot to flinch away from her. “You don’t belong with them. You belong in the Horde. You are the devious, calculating manipulator I raised you to be. Return to the Fright Zone, and take your place at my side.”

“At your side?” Catra’s tail lashed.

As she spoke, Shadow Weaver’s figure stretched tall, and the air around them darkened. “With Adora as our weapon, the two of us will be unstoppable. We will unseat Hordak and take the Horde as our own. With the inroads you’ve made into the Rebellion, it won’t be long before the princesses fall, as well, and all of Etheria will be ours.”

“Adora…”

“Haven’t you always envied her power? Haven’t you always wanted her to listen to you?” Shadow Weaver shrank slightly, her voice sickly sweet. “She’s been lost without you. Barely sleeping, lying to me – she’s hardly been herself since you left.” Catra thought of the raw skin around Adora’s nails, of her scabbed lips as she had reached out to Catra with fear etched into the lines of her face. “She’ll do whatever you say, if only you come home.”

Catra flicked both ears in succession. “None of this changes the fact that you hate me.”

“I have already told you, hatred has nothing to do with it. Everything I have done was to prepare you for the world, for this purpose.”

Catra drew her breath in sharply. What a tempting thought, that all the pain and horror of the Fright Zone – every harsh word, every bruise, every slight in favor of Adora – might now have some meaning.

Adora had always had a sense of purpose, of destiny. Catra had never understood the way Adora clung to it, but she was beginning to see the appeal. After all, how could she be broken if everything that had hurt her was in the service of some larger goal?

Or, at the very least, if she was broken, she might be broken for some purpose.

Shadow Weaver had come closer.

“Perhaps you are not ready yet,” said Shadow Weaver. “But you will be.” She put one ghostly hand to Catra’s cheek, smoothed a pale tuft of hair by her ear, cupped her face. It was a caress Catra had seen her give Adora many times but had never received herself.

She wanted to be appalled.

She leaned into the touch.

“Call for me when you are ready to come home.” Shadow Weaver’s form disappeared abruptly, but her voice lingered. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Catra raised a hand to her cheek and tried not to admit to herself that she missed the brief touch that had dissipated there.

**

Bow came looking for her the next day.

She hid from him, stalking his progress through the woods from the highest branches, until, finally, he called her bluff.

“I know you’re up there somewhere, Catra,” he called, crossing his arms. “I’m not going back to Brightmoon until you talk to me.”

She groaned and made her way down to him.

“What do you want?” She dropped lightly in front of him as he tapped his foot impatiently.

“Well, firstly,” and Catra realized his tone was one of concern rather than annoyance, “I wanted to see if you were OK. You’ve never gone this long without stopping by the castle. I was worried.”

She had resolved to be prickly, but she couldn’t help but soften a little at the look of earnest worry on his face.

“I’m fine, Bow. I told Glimmer I needed space.”

“Yeah…” He fidgeted nervously with his fingers. “She’s still pretty upset about what happened at Dryl.”

“Poor Princess Sparkles losing sleep over it?”

“Um… Maybe you guys should talk.”

“I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly what she said. You’re both so frustrating.”

“What can I say,” Catra tried to dispel the specter of Shadow Weaver at the back of her mind. “You should make better friends.”

“Oh come on, Catra – you’re great!” Catra raised an eyebrow. “OK so, yeah, what happened at Dryl was… not so great.” He made a strangled sound in his throat. “Clearly you and She-Ra have some… history—”

She cut him off abruptly. “When I left the Fright Zone, I finally had a chance to make something of myself – something apart from her – and I’ve just been wasting it. I could have done so much more.”

“But you’ve been helping the Rebellion,” said Bow. “That’s not nothing.”

Catra didn’t respond.

Bow stared at her with concern until she sighed and shrugged. “Well, you’ve seen for yourself I’m still alive out here – did you want anything else, or can I go? I have a _really_ important nap I need to be getting to.”

“Actually there is something else. We have a mission. Entrapta’s been studying the fragments of the disc we brought back from Dryl, and… well, she’s got some theories about its effects on She-Ra.” He stopped short as he said the name and looked at her uncomfortably.

“So?” she snapped. Watching other people walk on eggshells was infuriating. “What’s the mission?”

“Entrapta wants to talk to some magic experts to learn more about how sorcery can be applied to technology – so we’re going to Mystacor.”

“Where?”

“You know, the island where all of Etheria’s sorcerer’s live?”

Catra very dimly remembered learning something to that effect as a junior cadet – the Horde barely had any information about the island. Cadets had learned little more than its name and that it was so well protected it was virtually impossible to find.

“So you’re traveling to well-defended Rebellion territory. You don’t need me for that.”

“Please, Catra.” Bow’s eyes were wide and pleading. “It’s true, Entrapta’s going to be doing most of the work, but Mystacor is a great place to just relax for a while, and I thought it might be good for you.”

Again, his concern touched her, though she’d never admit it. She thought for a moment. “Is Glimmer going?”

Bow made another strangled sound in his throat. “Mmmmmm noooooo?”

“She is. You’re a terrible liar.”

He let out a long exhale. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So basically, you want me to go on vacation with you so Glimmer and I can make up?”

“Yes?”

“Not a chance.”

“Pleeeeeeeease???”

“Absolutely not.” Catra leapt to a low branch, preparing to make her exit.

“Fine then,” said Bow in a suspiciously disinterested tone. “I’ll just tell Glimmer you were too scared to face her.”

_“What?”_

“You heard me.”

_I’m not an idiot. I know when I’m being manipulated._

She narrowed her eyes and lashed her tail. “Fine. I’ll meet you back here when you’re all ready to go.” She climbed away from him sulkily and flicked an ear at the happy squeak he let out behind her.

**

Two days later Catra steadied Entrapta as, propelled by her hair, the princess landed awkwardly on the flying rock that was carrying them to Mystacor. Bow was bright-eyed as ever, but Glimmer was quiet, and a little tense. She had matched the standoffish glare Catra sent her when she met them at the edge of the woods to travel to Mystacor. They hadn’t spoken since leaving Dryl, still hadn’t said a word to each other as they travelled.

Catra’s eyes widened as they passed out of a cloud bank and she saw the floating island of Mystacor for the first time.

Entrapta was similarly impressed. “Fascinating,” she drawled, as they passed through the protective field surrounding the island.

“Mystacor is the safest and most peaceful place on Etheria.” Glimmer threw a pointed glance at Catra. “Let’s try to keep it that way. My Aunt Castaspella is head sorceress, and I’ll never hear the end of it if something goes wrong while we’re here.”

Catra blinked innocently, flicked an ear, and leapt from the floating rock to the island long before any of the others could manage the distance. She stood waiting for them with one hand on her hip, smirking at Glimmer’s intense scowl.

Catra would not have thought it possible, but Glimmer’s scowl actually deepened as a dark-haired woman wearing a long robe ran to greet them.

“Is that my Glimmer? Oh it’s so good to see you brought friends with you!”

“Aunt Casta, hi.”

Catra raised an eyebrow as Glimmer practically wilted in her aunt’s overbearing presence.

_Perfect._

Castaspella looked to Glimmer expectantly. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

The princess sighed. “You already know Bow, obviously. This is Princess Entrapta, who has already been in contact with you.” She paused, then muttered, quickly and barely audible, “And this is Catra.”

Catra grinned evilly at Glimmer, then turned to Castaspella and used her sweetest tone. “So wonderful to meet you, Head Sorceress. I’m _so_ glad to finally be visiting Mystacor. I’ve heard _such_ great things.”

Castaspella seemed a little taken aback. “Well, Glimmer, you found a good one here. Keep her around.” Glimmer’s face was turning a perfect shade of angry red, and, as Castaspella turned to lead them away from the landing area, Catra stuck her tongue out.

Entrapta catapulted forward on her pigtails to walk beside Castaspella. “I also am glad to be here! I have so many questions! Firstly, about that flying rock…”

Catra tuned out Entrapta’s lengthy and enthusiastic question – and Castaspella’s equally lengthy and enthusiastic answer – as she followed them towards a set of stone stairs leading to Mystacor’s domed structures. She heard Glimmer struggling to catch up to her.

“What,” the Princess of Brightmoon hissed, “was that about?”

Catra turned to her innocently. “I was just trying to make a good impression, like you asked. Or are you mad because I didn’t do it _exactly_ the way you wanted?”

“That’s not what you were doing. You were—”

Bow cleared his throat and stepped between them. “Hey, can we just… play nice maybe? We came here to relax, not fight.”

Catra picked up her pace and flicked an ear. “Who’s fighting?” She grinned at the sound of Glimmer’s infuriated squeak.

Castaspella turned. “Glimmer? Did you say something?”

“Oh it was nothing,” said Catra, quickly. “She was just telling me how much she _loves_ visiting you. What were you telling Entrapta about the protective shield around the island?”

**

Somehow, between Castaspella’s and Entrapta’s combined enthusiasm, the group was roped into a tour. Catra trudged noncommittally at the back of the group, not really listening. She noticed that Glimmer seemed about as thrilled as she did to be following her aunt through the bright hallways, but chose not to comment on it. Bow looked between the two of them uncomfortably from time to time. Castaspella and Entrapta walked ahead and chattered at cross-purposes to each other, neither one seeming to mind that other wasn’t really paying close attention to what she was saying.

Catra’s ears pricked up as they entered a large circular room full of reflective crystals, and Castaspella announced, “This is the Lunarium – the site of Mystacor’s magical defenses.” She pointed upwards. “The lunar lenses. We’ll be having the monthly eclipse ceremony tonight to recharge their power. You really must come, it’s a sight to see!”

“But Auntie,” said Glimmer, over Entrapta’s immediate and enthusiastic acceptance of the invitation. “Bow and I have seen the eclipse ceremony _dozens_ of times, and we’re all _so_ tired from traveling. Maybe we could skip it?”

“No,” Catra said, quickly. “I’d like to see it, actually.”

Glimmer looked at her sharply as Castaspella gave an appreciative laugh.

“You see, Glimmer? Your friends are very enthusiastic – I like them already! I’ll expect to see you all there, then.”

The Horde had barely any information about this island full of sorcerers – Mystacor had always been undetectable to Horde technology.

_I want to see how they do it._

Glimmer scowled at her as Castaspella led them out of the circular room.

_And I want to annoy Glimmer._

Catra had decided to attempt an escape from the tour and had started scoping out a good hiding spot for a nap, when they entered a long sunlit hall full of large, shining statues.

Shining except for one.

Catra’s eye was drawn to the fire-blackened statue immediately. She stopped directly at its foot and gazed upwards. “What’s wrong with this one?” She felt caught by the statue’s lidded gaze over the carved, flowing veil.

“Ah,” Castaspella’s chipper tone darkened with disdain. “That is Light Spinner, a scar on the history of Mystacor. She turned to dark magics in an attempt to seize power, and for that, she was cast out.”

Catra’s heartbeat quickened as she continued to stare up at the tall, dark pillar of a woman, hair flowing out in tendrils about her head. She fought her body’s instinct to make itself small.

_‘I, too, once lived in the world of princesses. They were less than appreciative of my methods.’_

“There are some who say she’s still out there, waiting to exact her revenge.”

_Shadow Weaver was here. Shadow Weaver_ came _from_ _here._

Catra was struck with an immediate, all-consuming distrust for the entire island of sorcerers.

“But of course that’s only a tale to scare children.”

_That’s not a legend, you idiot. She really_ is _out there waiting for revenge._

Castaspella, still blabbering about something, moved off down the hallway with the others. Catra stayed where she was, staring up at the blackened visage of Light Spinner – of Shadow Weaver.

It must have simply been a trick of her imagination, but the statue itself seemed to hiss down at her.

_‘How long before the Rebellion sees your true nature?’_

If they despised Shadow Weaver enough to make her into some kind of dark legend to scare children, how long until they felt the same about Catra, ward of the monster they’d cast out? How long until one of Catra’s methods was too much for the Rebellion to stomach? She thought of the look of confusion verging on horror on Glimmer’s face in Dryl as Catra insisted they could use Adora as a weapon.

She was cut from the same cloth as Shadow Weaver – Shadow Weaver who had purposefully molded her to a twisted, broken design.

“Catra?”

She jumped, realizing that she was clenching her fists so tightly that her claws had dug little raw marks into her palms. Glimmer stood next to her, hand upraised as if to place it on her shoulder. The princess thought better of it and dropped her arm.

“What do you want?” Catra found she had forgotten to breathe for the past minute or so, and inhaled sharply.

Glimmer furrowed her brow. “Are… you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Catra looked back up at the statue.

_More like I saw the future._

She took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Sparkles. Don’t worry about it.”

“Your tail is bushy. That means something’s wrong.”

_Dammit. When did she learn to read me?_

Catra made a conscious effort to relax her bristling fur as Glimmer continued. “Did Aunt Casta’s story about Light Spinner actually scare you? It’s only a story. She’s been telling that silly thing since before I can remember.”

_I bet she has._

Rage spiked through Catra’s gut. Of course the very real monster of her childhood was some silly story for Glimmer and the rest of the princesses to laugh at. She felt that urge again to break something from this perfect world, scratch it, mar it with fire like the face of the statue that loomed over her.

She snarled. “Is there any member of your family who isn’t ignorant and incompetent?”

Glimmer paused for a moment, then let out a small, affronted puff of air. “Why are you like this?”

Catra glanced back up at the statue and flexed her claws. “If you don’t like it, why do you bother keeping me around?”

Glimmer raised her voice and took a step closer. “Because, I thought you could… ugh, never mind.”

“What? Change? What happened to ‘you’re enough, just as you are’? Or was that just a line because you wanted me to hold this sorry excuse for a Rebellion together for you?”

“Of course you’re holding us together!” Glimmer put a hand to her temple in frustration. “Catra, you’re the only reason there _is_ a Princess Alliance – no one wanted to join until you did. My mom wouldn’t even entertain the idea of building the Alliance again until I told her you’d agreed to join it. _You_ brought us all together. _You_ gave us direction. You, just as you were.”

Catra didn’t quite know what to do with that. The weight of it settled oppressively in her chest. She didn’t want it there. She wanted to root it out, violent and bloody, with her own claws.

“But you were changing, I could see it – and it wasn’t a bad thing. You weren’t as angry, or hard, not until…”

_Adora._

Always Adora, and the shadows she brought with her.

“Catra, I was angry after Dryl because I was _scared_. You were so focused on whatever this thing with She-Ra is that you put the rest of us, the rest of the Alliance, at risk. You put _yourself_ at risk. If we lose you, everything falls apart again.”

In the back of her mind, Catra made an addition to her list of the Rebellion’s weaknesses.

“That answers my first question, then,” Catra spat. “Relying on me is a mistake – stupidity must run in your family. No wonder your dad was dumb enough to get himself killed.”

Glimmer’s whole body tensed. One arm twitched with what Catra knew was the impulse to hit her. Instead, Glimmer disappeared in a puff of pink light.

Catra sat at the foot of Light Spinner’s blackened statue and tried not to think about the tears that had glistened in Glimmer’s eyes as she left.

**

The eclipse ceremony itself, in Catra’s opinion, was little more than a decorative light show. Catra had first-hand experience of the power a sorceress could wield, but Castaspella used nothing of the kind. The sorcerers on Mystacor seemed only to perform simple, useless tricks. She eyed the lunar lenses askance as Castaspella shifted them to reflect light into each other.

Glimmer refused to so much as look at her through the whole ceremony.

Luckily, it was short, and Castaspella had ordered a feast prepared for afterwards.

Catra hung back as the others filed out of the Lunarium. She wandered to the basin at the center of the room, idly twirling a claw through the liquid inside as she stared up at the lenses. They still glittered with the remnants of power from the eclipse.

_Those lenses are the only thing preventing the Horde from taking this place._

She felt amazed and angry, again, at how careless the Rebellion was of their happy world. Glimmer had called Mystacor the safest place on Etheria, but Castaspella, knitting sweaters on her floating spa island while passive aggressively teasing her niece, let it all rest on one easily-diverted line of defense.

Catra flicked the liquid off her finger and stalked out of the Lunarium, catching the reflection of her bright blue eye in one of the crystals hanging along the perimeter.

**

By the time Catra reached the large dining room, everyone was already seated. The room was loud with conversation and laughter. Glimmer was putting up some kind of frustrated protest to a story Castaspella insisted on telling over her niece’s pained groans, and Bow was lost in laughter at the two of them. The Guild members sitting near them chuckled as well.

Catra stepped into the room, searching the corners for the spot where Entrapta was no doubt crouching on her pigtails, spying on the others. She stopped short as she saw the Princess of Dryl sitting at the table and talking animatedly with two sorcerers, her hair twisting with excitement over whatever they were discussing.

_‘You don’t belong with them.’_

Catra stood rooted to the spot, every muscle going tense and her fur bristling. Her breath came hard and labored, and the air around her felt constricted. As she stood there, paralyzed and staring with the sense of her wrongness, she half expected to see red lightning crackling around her body, squeezing and freezing her.

But Shadow Weaver couldn’t be here. Not really.

She was only here in the ways she had marked Catra, only in the way that Catra carried her inside.

Just like Adora.

Catra took a shuddering breath and blinked.

There, between the raucous banter of Bow and Castaspella, Glimmer had paused, had seen Catra frozen in the doorway.

Catra tried to meet her gaze defiantly – tried to silently deny to herself and the world that she was terrified and angry and full of shame.

Glimmer’s eyes were wide with concern.

_Why does she care? After what I’ve said to her…_

Glimmer opened her mouth slightly, like she wanted to say something from across the room.

_‘All you do is hurt people.’_

Catra dug the claws of one hand into her thigh, heard the fabric of her pants tear under them.

_She’s still not wrong._

Glimmer reached a hand towards Bow’s arm, took her eyes from Catra briefly as she tried to get his attention.

That moment of inattention was all Catra needed to disappear from the dining room, to slink back into the corridor and begin to find her way back to her room.

**

Being in a private room again reminded Catra of her imprisonment in Brightmoon. The guest room Castaspella had given her felt just as oppressive as that cell, and her mind was just as active as it had been back then.

She paced, her bare feet slapping lightly against the smooth stone floor. Her heartbeat was irregular, her breath shallow.

The fragility of the lunar lenses kept swimming to forefront of her mind, and, after it, all the pressure points, the cracks, every weakness she’d observed in the Rebellion.

It was only a matter of time before those cracks widened to massive fissures, and the Alliance, the Rebellion – all of it – shattered under the onslaught of the Horde.

And still those lenses.

_This is the safest place in Etheria, and it’s practically defenseless._

She thought of the other members of the Princess Alliance, whole and smiling in the sunny gardens of Brightmoon, of the happy gathering on another part of the island at that very moment, of the fire-blackened statue of the outcast Light Spinner.

She stopped pacing, took a breath, concentrated. Her racing thoughts slowed a bit, and she remembered briefly that Adora used to get this way – frequently, when they were junior cadets, and occasionally in the period just before Catra left the Fright Zone. She had used to let Adora hold her hand – as hard as she needed to, regardless of bruises – until she calmed down again.

Of course Catra had no such recourse – she’d done her best to isolate herself.

Her room had a large window facing the outer edge of the island with a long, cushioned seat at its sill. Catra climbed there now, twitching the tip of her tail back and forth.

Two pale moons were nudging their way over the horizon. Their light only dimly illuminated the empty beach below her window. The clouds surrounding the island were utterly still and stagnant in the thin light.

She was so tired.

She couldn’t escape the feeling that the only truly safe place for her was a broken one.

_I hate this._

That the only safe place for her was one she had broken herself, its ragged edges more familiar to her than her own skin, than the trees, than the hidden service corridors of the Fright Zone.

_I can’t do this anymore._

She had tried running, she had tried allying herself to the Rebellion, but still the long shadow of her childhood hung over her. There was only one way to stop it from hurting her ever again.

She was going to have to leap right back into its maw.

**

The floating rock was blessedly quiet as it bumped into the cliff. The thick mist around her was eerily illuminated by the light of two small, pale moons high overhead – the only two left in the sky this late in the night. Everything around her was shrouded and blurred.

Catra stepped from the rock onto the cliff, closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

“Shadow Weaver.” Her breath buffeted tendrils of fog away from her face. “I’m ready.”

A tall, dark shape materialized from the mist. It shifted and stretched briefly before solidifying into the familiar masked form.

“Catra.” The pale eyes narrowed in the mask. “You’ll return to the Fright Zone?”

“I can do better than that.”

Shadow Weaver was silent, letting the mist swirl around them expectantly.

“What would you say if I told you I could give you Mystacor?”

The pale eyes gleamed. “Welcome home…” She cupped Catra’s cheek in her hand. “…daughter.”

Catra closed her eyes, leaned into the ghostly touch, and purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry
> 
> This feels like a good time to remind everyone that this fic is going to have a Part 3.


	9. Antumbra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow the last chapter really stressed y'all out, didn't it?  
> I hope this one doesn't disappoint - full disclosure I found it really difficult to write.

Adora curled her lower lip under one canine, anxiously gnawed at it until she tasted the familiar tang of her own blood.

She had been waiting outside the Black Garnet chamber for nearly an hour. She’d come as soon as Shadow Weaver summoned her – back straight, hair smoothed, and trying to settle her uneasiness at the thought that this was the first time Shadow Weaver had called for her since her return from Dryl – but the door was shut. She could hear voices coming from inside the chamber, but no one had gone in or out while she stood there.

Adora wished Scorpia had been summoned with her – or anyone, really. Her stomach churned as she thought of the way she had broken in front of Shadow Weaver last time.

Finally, the door rumbled open.

“Adora, come in. We have much to discuss.”

She took a breath and entered. Shadow Weaver was turned away from her, leaning over the basin on its pedestal. The Black Garnet dominated the center of the chamber, as it had since Adora was a child, pulsing with a lurid glow. To either side of it, in smaller stands, sat the Heart Blossom and the Pearl, emanating their own dim glow.

Adora stopped in front of the runestones and saluted uncertainly. “Shadow Weaver.”

Shadow Weaver did not turn. “You must prepare to leave the Fright Zone. I have an important mission for you.”

“Yes, Shadow Weaver.” She saluted again, uneasiness still churning in her stomach. “I’ll alert Force Captain Scorpia and put a squad together.”

“No. You’ll be going alone and leaving immediately. Time and stealth are of the essence. Force Captain Scorpia has already been ordered to prepare a large force to follow you.”

“What’s the mission?”

Shadow Weaver swiped one hand from the basin towards the Black Garnet, and Adora’s heart lodged in her throat as Catra’s face appeared in the reflective surface of the runestone.

The image of Catra shifted, smirked, spoke. “Hey, Adora.”

Not just an image, then.

Adora’s hand went halfway to her sword. “What’s… Why are you here?” She wondered when arming herself had become her instinctual reaction to Catra’s presence.

“What’s the matter princess, aren’t you happy to see me?” Catra cackled, and Adora was reminded unpleasantly of the giggling Catra in her dream. “Seriously, you should see your face right now – it’s perfect.”

Adora spluttered. “I… You…”

“Enough.” Adora had been so caught up in her surprise that for a second she had nearly forgotten Shadow Weaver was in the room. She dropped her hand away from the sword and stood to attention. “After your report from Dryl, I paid Catra a visit. We came to an agreement of sorts.”

“It’s your lucky day, Adora. I’m coming home.”

The raw skin of Adora’s lip split again as her jaw dropped.

Catra snickered.

“Catra has provided us with some invaluable information.” Adora tried to place Shadow Weaver’s tone as she absentmindedly swiped a spot of blood from her lip with the back of her hand. “The location of Mystacor has been hidden, even from me, for years.”

“But my new friends practically begged to take me there.” Catra’s voice was thick with disdain.

“Now we will obliterate Etheria’s sorcerers.” Adora finally recognized the color in Shadow Weaver’s voice – one part greedy, exultant, one part gloating, prideful. This was the way she usually spoke to Adora – she’d never used the tone with Catra before.

Adora cleared her throat and avoided looking at Catra. “If we know the location, then we should just launch a full-scale assault with the force Scorpia is preparing. Why the need for stealth?”

“Because,” Catra’s faceted projection rolled its eyes, “They just repowered their protection spell – you can’t launch a full-scale attack on something you can’t see. But,” Catra’s face grew larger as she leaned towards whatever was allowing her to communicate with them, “I _can_ sneak one person in – say, someone with super strength and a magic sword who could destroy their defenses from the inside?” She leaned back again.

“And,” Shadow Weaver placed a possessive hand on the Black Garnet, “With She-Ra’s connection to my runestone, you will be able to draw my magical essence through to join you. My physical form will remain here in the Fright Zone, but my power and consciousness will manifest in Mystacor. In this form I may cast the necessary counterspells to expose Mystacor to our awaiting forces.”

“Besides,” Catra looked a bit uncomfortable. “I’m about to make all my Brightmoon ‘pals’ _very_ upset with me. I’m going to need someone to get me out of there, quickly. I need _you_ to get me out of there, Adora.” Adora stared at Catra reflected in the runestone – her face was cast there in a mirror image, the color of her eyes reversed. Catra broke their eye contact first, snorting. “I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna trust Lonnie not to stab me in the back.”

Adora’s mind whirled at Catra’s unexpected admission. Here they were, back in the Black Garnet chamber, with Catra asking for her help as she had in this very spot and in her own fashion twice before.

Adora swallowed hard and hoped she wouldn’t let Catra down again.

“OK.”

Adora was quiet as Catra and Shadow Weaver finalized the last details of the plan. She could hardly believe that these two warring factions of her life had finally come together in a way she had always wanted, but never expected.

Now that it was actually happening, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

Soon they finished, and, with a final smirk, Catra’s face disappeared from the Black Garnet. Shadow Weaver turned her full attention to Adora.

“I told you I would take care of things.” Shadow Weaver glided closer. “You should have told me about Catra earlier – I might have brought her home sooner.”

Adora’s mouth was dry. “You said it was a waste of resources to go after her.”

“And you said nothing of her alliance with Brightmoon. Why would I chase someone with nothing to offer?”

Adora was quiet for a moment, then asked, quietly, “Do you trust her?”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed in her mask. “No.” She folded her hands in front of her. “But I trust her nature.” She moved even closer, until Adora had to tilt her head upwards to keep her gaze on Shadow Weaver’s face as the wraith stared down at her. “I trust her weaknesses.” She unlaced her fingers and spread her arms demonstratively. “By this time tomorrow, Mystacor will be ours.”

Adora found, in that moment, that she did not particularly care about Mystacor.

Adora furrowed her brow and looked down. “The first time I saw her… after she left… I asked her to come back. She said she never would.” She looked up again, hesitantly. “What did you offer her?”

Shadow Weaver chuckled. “Power. Control.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No.” Shadow Weaver chuckled again and turned her back on Adora. “You wouldn’t.”

**

Adora took some time to stop by her room before leaving.

She sat on the bed and smoothed a hand over the blanket. She still couldn’t quite believe that she was going to meet Catra – not to fight her, but to bring her home.

So much hurt had passed between them, even before Catra left. She wanted to hope – she wanted to believe that her too-large bed and her too-empty room might feel full again.

She had no idea what Catra wanted – she never really had.

But there had been a perfect moment, here, once.

She was different now. Catra was different, too. Maybe now Catra could share some of her secrets, open up the doors in those labyrinthine passages of thought and feeling that had always confounded Adora, show her the truth inside. Maybe now Adora was ready to listen to those secrets.

She pulled the sword from her back and stared grimly into the rust-hued runestone shard on its hilt. She strained her eyes to catch the smooth form of the smooth, original stone underneath, obscured by the roughly-faceted Black Garnet.

Maybe she was ready to stop listening to Shadow Weaver, and to this untrustworthy sword.

**

The sun was long set when Adora reached the meeting spot at the cliff edge. Two small, pale moons hung silently overhead, casting dim white light that threw blurred shadows on the ground. She caught her breath at Catra’s silhouette against the ghost-lit mist.

“Hey, Adora.” Catra stood with hands on her hips, hair blowing wildly about her face and a small smirk on her lips.

“Catra.” Was all Adora could manage.

They stood surveying each other in silence as a pockmarked purple moon inched its way above the horizon. Adora felt she should say something, but her mind felt blank, stifled, with the difficulty of this moment. How could she put the regrets of the past, the uncertainty of the present, and the hope for the future into something as small and concrete as speech?

“Well,” said Catra, finally. “Good talk. You ready to do this?”

Adora swallowed. “Yeah.”

“OK, princess.” Catra turned to the cliff edge. “Don’t freak out.” She jumped off.

And reappeared on a floating hunk of rock before Adora was truly able to process what she had just seen. “Come on, Adora. Jump.”

Adora took a breath and did as she said. She misjudged the distance slightly, and one foot slipped into air behind her as she landed. She toppled backwards, but there was Catra, gripping her arm and pulling her back to safety on the moving rock.

Catra’s touch was brief, businesslike, but it sent a jolt through Adora nonetheless. She twitched as Catra pulled away. Catra gave her a sidelong glance but said nothing.

They rode in silence, until the clouds parted before them, and Adora saw Mystacor.

“Wow.”

“Pretty impressive right?” Catra’s voice was bitter. “I bet Shadow Weaver can’t wait for you to burn it to the ground.”

Adora took more care as she leapt from the rock to the island, and Catra had no reason to touch her again.

Adora surveyed the deserted landing space. “There’s no one on watch?”

Catra barked a single, short laugh. “Of course not. They think they’re safe behind their protection spell. Besides, they’re all probably still too tired to really care after the party they threw last night.”

“What’s a party?”

Catra snorted derisively. “Someday, Adora, I am going to teach you how to live a little.”

Adora’s heart skipped a beat at the indication that Catra thought there was some kind of future for the two of them.

The spires of Mystacor rose above them, pale in the purplish moonlight. Catra pointed to a squat, round tower in the center. “That’s where we’re headed.”

Adora glanced to the tower briefly before her gaze fell back to Catra. “Why?”

Catra turned to stare at her. “Um… because that’s where Mystacor’s defenses are, obviously. Did you not understand the part about me gathering intel so you’d know what to hit with your sword?”

“No, I mean… Why are you doing this?”

Catra let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “What, you don’t want me to come back now?”

Familiar panic surged into the back of Adora’s throat. “No! That is… that’s not what I meant! Of course I want you to come home!” Catra raised an eyebrow. “Really, Catra.” Adora hung her head, her arms tense at her sides. “I’ve… Things have been… I have these dreams, and…” Adora was acutely aware that she was doing a terrible job of explaining what she needed – she’d always been bad at this. Tears of frustration were stinging the corners of her eyes. “There’s so much pressure – and I feel like I can’t breathe, and I just mess up, like I always did with you…” She cut herself off and shut her eyes tightly. “I’ve needed… I need… help,” she finished in a miserable whisper.

She twitched, startled into opening her eyes as she felt Catra put a hand on her shoulder. Catra’s eyes were narrowed in concern and what Adora recognized as some kind of calculation.

“What about scorpion lady?”

Adora blinked, thought for a moment. “She tries. And she helps. But it’s not enough.”

Catra hummed low in response, some secret thought racing behind her eyes. The familiar way Catra took in her vulnerability and filed it somewhere was almost comforting – or, at least, Adora felt a kind of nostalgia for the twinge of uncertainty and pain that blossomed in her chest as it happened.

What Catra would do with that vulnerability, Adora had no idea – she never had.

But Catra’s hand, claws carefully retracted, was still on Adora’s shoulder, and that was definitely comforting.

Adora cleared her throat. “So,” Catra’s eyes refocused, stopped calculating. “Why are you doing this? You said you’d never come back to the Fright Zone.”

The corner of Catra’s mouth lifted in a small, rueful smile. “Tired of running away, I guess.” She took her hand from Adora’s shoulder. “Besides, bringing down Mystacor – the magical Rebellion stronghold that the Horde has never been able to find before? That’s bound to impress Hordak. It’s already impressed Shadow Weaver.”

“But,” Adora interjected, her voice small and hesitant, “You said it was all bad.”

Catra rubbed at her arm, where partially-regrown fur had made the outline of her Horde brand fuzzy. “After this, I’ll be so much more than your Lieutenant.” She started towards a set of stairs framed by an ornate archway that led up towards the tower.

“Hey,” Adora caught her wrist, halting Catra’s progress toward the archway, as she was struck by a sudden thought. “I’m proud of you.”

Catra turned, and Adora couldn’t understand the look on her face – some kind of vulnerability, an almost-hurt, but something hard and bitter, as well. “What?”

“For what you’re doing now. You can’t like working with Shadow Weaver, and I know the Fright Zone isn’t exactly your favorite place…” Catra avoided Adora’s eyes, her ears downturned and her tail very, very still. “But you’re doing this anyway. It’s big! And, ultimately, it works towards the greater good of Etheria.” Adora took a hesitant breath and slid her hand into Catra’s as she stepped closer. “I always knew you could be a hero… So I’m proud of you.” She squeezed her hand gently. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

Fragments of her dream, of her sword forcing its way through Catra’s body, flickered at the back of her mind. With relief, she let those fragments dissipate.

Adora lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I missed you.”

“I know.” Catra finally met her eyes, and Adora saw there the uncertain look that meant Catra might just let down her defenses for a moment. Adora took a chance, leaned towards her slowly, and their lips had almost met when Catra bobbed her head back. Her eyes had turned hard, glinting like topaz and sapphire. “Things are going to be different now.”

Adora allowed herself a small smile, a tiny hope. “Good.”

She waited.

Catra brought her free hand up to grasp the back of Adora’s neck, pulling her in. As they got closer again, Adora saw that Catra’s eyes shimmered, still hard, but with something else now cracking through. Catra kissed her slowly, deliberately, casting them out of time and context until Adora couldn’t quite remember where she was or what she was there for except _this_.

Finally Catra broke away from her.

“You’d better be She-Ra now. It won’t take us long to get where we’re going.”

**

She-Ra felt wrong.

Adora hadn’t transformed since the disaster in Dryl. She had been afraid to, and she hadn’t told anyone. Not even Scorpia.

And now She-Ra felt wrong.

It wasn’t that the transformation felt any different than it normally did – there was still the dark cloud, shot through with red lightning, still the feeling of redirection, the jolt of pain. It was the same as it had always been. Nothing had changed.

It’s just that _now_ it felt wrong.

It’s just that it wasn’t _that_ transformation – that endless expansion and brightness, that freeing white light…

“Are you coming or what?” Catra’s voice startled her, and Adora realized she had stopped dead in the hall of this tower in Mystacor to stare at her hands and the hilt of her sword.

“Yeah, sorry.” She swallowed her sense of shame and tried to ignore the feeling that her body had been shoved into a form that was too small. She followed Catra through a tall doorway into a large, round room hung with crystals. She looked up to see what she guessed must be the lunar lenses she was supposed to destroy. Beyond them was a large opening in the ceiling, revealing the blank, dark blue night sky, with just a sliver of purple moon cutting over the rim of the opening. The edges of the room were lost to Adora in murky moonshadow.

Catra had already stepped to a raised platform in the center of the room, barely illuminated by the scant moonlight. She stood by a tall pedestal topped with a basin.

“Here’s the thing with the magic water or whatever.” Catra looked nervously towards the doorway. “Hurry up and call Shadow Weaver through so we can get this over with.”

Adora joined her by the basin and lifted her sword. She paused and looked into the rough shard of the Black Garnet in its hilt. “Are… Are you sure you’re going to be OK when we go home? With Shadow Weaver I mean. I know she… She always…” Adora trailed off.

Catra gave a short laugh and idly stroked a pale tuft of her wild mane that hung below one ear. “Don’t worry about it. It’s like I said – things are going to be different. Shadow Weaver won’t be a problem anymore.”

Adora thought of Shadow Weaver’s four-pointed badge studded with runestone shards. She placed one of She-Ra’s large hands on Catra’s shoulder. Catra seemed startled at the touch. “Just be careful, Catra. She has more runestones, now – she gets more power from them. I think… she uses them all like the Black Garnet.”

Catra shot an unreadable glance up at her. “Thank you.” She shook She-Ra’s hand off. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Adora nodded, then lowered the sword’s tip to the liquid in the basin. She took a breath and focused on the shard in the hilt, felt magic stretching like a dark leash from the shard to the Black Garnet, tried not to shiver as she sensed dense shadow curling towards them in her mind.

The shard began to glow, and the liquid mirrored it. The lurid magic illuminated the center of the room, casting Catra’s face into strange, shadowy relief.

They both stared into the basin as the liquid turned utterly black and began to well up. Inky black tendrils oozed out of the basin and coalesced into Shadow Weaver, larger and more imposing than ever, her head nearly reaching the high ceiling.

“Ah,” said the echoing mass of shadows, “It’s so good to be back.”

“Yes, Light Spinner,” came a voice from the entranceway behind them. “It’s been too long.”

Adora spun to face the woman who had spoken, a sorceress with long, dark hair. The woman’s hands flew in a circular pattern, and a bright light ignited in her hands. Similar lights appeared along the previously-murky perimeter of the circular room, illuminating the faces of the sorcerers who cast them. As one, the sorcerers threw their lights toward the ceiling, where the blinding radiance reflected from the lenses that hung there. Bright beams shot throughout the chamber, forming a kind of prismatic cage that began to contract around Shadow Weaver’s manifestation. Shadow Weaver’s form shifted with the constriction, no longer the tall shape of a woman, instead a roiling mass of dark tendrils.

“We must contain her!” shouted the dark-haired sorceress.

Shadow Weaver responded with an angry roar – her essence pulsed, and the sorcerers’ lights flickered.

 “No!” Catra cried, desperate. Adora chanced a look over at her – Catra’s eyes were wide, her tail bristled.

Catra was afraid.

The writhing mass that was Shadow Weaver pulsed again, and the bright bars of magic around her exploded. With a shriek, Shadow Weaver whirled up into her full, imposing form and turned an angry, glowing eye towards the sorcerers below her. Thick black tendrils snaked down at the head sorceress, who quickly sketched a diamond in the air before her. The magic flickered dimly as Shadow Weaver approached, and the sorceress’ eyes widened with panic and shock as the diamond sputtered.

There was a small flash of pink light in front of the failing spell, and the Princess of Brightmoon appeared there, her face set with a look of grim determination. She conjured a pale pink orb between her outstretched hands, which grew as she concentrated. With a roar that Adora could hardly believe came from such a small person, the princess hurled the orb towards Shadow Weaver.

The mass of darkness chuckled drily as the orb missed her by several feet, sailing quietly instead towards the ceiling behind her.

Adora squinted as the orb hit one of the lunar lenses and flared brighter, bounced away towards another of the lenses, then another, and another, growing more luminous each time it touched a lens, the reflective light making the room unbearably bright. Shadow Weaver’s form began to shrink in on itself, the inky tendrils retracting. Adora heard more than saw the Princess of Brightmoon teleport to the ceiling, where she caught the radiant sphere and, with another impressive roar, hurled it directly into the center of Shadow Weaver’s towering form.

With a bloodcurdling cry, Shadow Weaver’s manifestation broke apart. Shreds of shadow-stuff hovered, wriggling, in the air for a moment, then rushed en masse through the open ceiling and away.

When Adora’s vision finally cleared, she saw that Glimmer had returned to the ground, and Catra was staring at the spot where Shadow Weaver had been moments before.

Catra’s tail was still bushy.

She was still afraid.

Adora and Catra were alone in the midst of the circle of stern-faced sorcerers.

Adora reached She-Ra’s hand down to take one of Catra’s. The touch startled Catra out of her frozen stare, and she looked up to meet Adora’s eyes. “Just hang on, Catra. I can get us out of this”

“Oh Adora.” Catra raised her eyebrows and squeezed She-Ra’s large hand gently. “I don’t want you to.” She slipped her fingers from Adora’s grasp.

Adora found it difficult to breathe as Catra stepped away, and the Princess of Brightmoon came forward to meet her a few feet from the basin where Adora stood.

“Are you all right?” The princess put a hand to Catra’s shoulder. Catra did not answer her, but glanced upwards towards the opening in the ceiling where Shadow Weaver had disappeared. “I’m sorry we lost her – she was so much more powerful than Aunt Casta said she'd be.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” said Catra, grimly. “This is only half over.” She took a deep breath and looked towards Adora again. She held out one hand and locked eyes with Adora. “You can give me the sword, or I can take it from you.”

Adora wished she could do something other than stand there in the middle of this room full of enemies, her mouth slack with surprise.

Catra’s voice was soft and gentle. “Please, Adora.”

Adora’s hand tightened on the hilt of the sword.

“You… You lied?”

Catra flicked an ear, her hand still outstretched. “It’s surprisingly easy to get Shadow Weaver to do exactly what you want. You just have to make her believe that she’s the one manipulating you.”

“I don’t care about Shadow Weaver!” The words burst out before Adora could even think to stop them. “You lied to _me_.”

As angry heat and tension built in She-Ra’s muscles, Adora tried to understand when everything in her life had become so untrustworthy – Shadow Weaver who spoke in circles, the sword which smothered her with visions, Catra who kissed her.

Catra sighed and lowered her ears. “I told you things would be different now.”

Adora noticed her knuckles had gone white around the hilt of the sword.

“Adora?”

She swung the sword overhead with all her strength and brought it crashing down towards Catra, but of course she dodged it easily after shoving the Princess of Brightmoon out of harm’s way. Adora roared in frustration and swung again, wildly. A bolt of red energy shot from the tip of the sword and crashed through the hanging shards at the edges of the room as Catra dodged.

“The crystals!” shouted the dark-haired sorceress.

“OK Adora, you want me…” Catra leapt up quickly and landed on She-Ra’s broad shoulder for a moment. “You’re gonna have to catch me.” And Catra was gone, a wild streak bolting out the entrance and down the statue-filled hallway beyond.

Adora stared at the entranceway for a moment. The sorceress was worried about the crystals. Adora could destroy them, could destroy the lenses. She could salvage some of this mission. Catra was trying to lead her away. Catra was manipulating her again.

She followed Catra.

Catra stayed just out of her reach – and through her anger occurred the bitter thought that Catra had always kept herself out of reach, had never shared herself openly, had always had some secret agenda that Adora never understood but that Catra expected her to understand.

She kept swinging the sword, hard, knowing that it would never come into contact with Catra but needing to strike out in any way she could.

Catra led her back to the floating rock that had carried them to Mystacor and leapt to it. Without thinking, Adora followed, smashing the sword forcefully into the rock. It burst into pieces, and they both plummeted downwards.

“Adora!” Catra was spiraling away from her, and Adora could see the rough ground hurtling up to meet them.

Catra wouldn’t survive this fall.

As she tumbled, Adora looked at her hands, still wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword. The shard of Black Garnet stared back at her, and once again she was aware of the itch, the wrongness, of She-Ra’s form.

Catra was still falling away from her – another moment and she would be out of She-Ra’s reach entirely.

Adora wrenched her body around, flung the sword away, and reached for Catra with both hands.

She pulled her close to She-Ra’s broad chest. After a moment, she felt Catra pushing back against her, and Adora realized that she was crushing Catra in her protective embrace.

Before she could loosen her grip, her back crashed heavily into the ground.

Adora lost sight of Catra briefly as the dark storm of She-Ra’s transformation overtook her. The power used to prevent her from breaking every bone in her body in the fall had been too much – she was utterly out of magic.

Her back felt bruised, and all of her joints ached from the impact. She blinked to clear her blurry vision and saw that Catra had landed on top of her without a scratch from the fall.

“Adora?”

“You…” And Adora found that despite her exhaustion, despite her decision to break Catra’s fall, she was still angry. She lifted one shaking arm and hit Catra as hard as she could – which wasn’t hard at all, and Catra barely flinched at the blow. Adora didn’t care. She rained a flurry of weak blows at Catra. “I thought…” she gasped, “I thought…”

“I’m sorry.” Catra stood, and Adora let her arms fall back to her side. She turned her head and watched as Catra walked to the spot nearby where the sword had landed point down in the ground and tugged it free.

Adora’s voice was nearly a whisper, but Catra twitched an ear towards her as she spoke. “I know you’re angry, Catra. I know I messed up so many times, but what did I do,” she swallowed, the sides of her dry throat crashing together painfully, “What did I do to deserve _this_?”

“I’m not angry, Adora. Not at you.” The look on Catra’s face as she turned back to Adora was one of sincere apology. “This wasn’t about you. It was about trapping Shadow Weaver. It was about taking your sword – about stopping the Horde’s two most powerful assets.” Catra took a step closer. “It was about what’s best for the Rebellion, and for Etheria.”

As if to illustrate her point, the Princess of Brightmoon appeared at that moment in a shower of light. “Catra – you’re OK?”

Catra passed the sword to her. “Here, get this back to Entrapta. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The princess looked distrustfully at Adora, who had managed to push herself to her knees. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine. Go without me, Glimmer.”

Glimmer gave Catra a concerned look, and did not teleport away until Catra met her eyes. Their shared glance made something clutch in Adora’s stomach.

Catra turned to her again as the light of the princess’ teleport faded. “It’s like you said in Dryl, this fight is bigger than us.” Her voice took on a bitter edge. “It has to be, otherwise everything is as damaged as we are.”

But Adora couldn’t be damaged. What had been the point of the everyday pain of the Fright Zone, of the narrow limits and anxieties of her childhood, of the rearranging and shoving aside of feelings and reservations, if she was just going to end up shattered and powerless here?

Catra came close, knelt to Adora’s level, and spoke softly. “I can’t just live in the broken world Shadow Weaver made for me anymore. I had to face her – I had to do something bigger than myself for once. Can you understand that?”

After a moment, Adora nodded once, slowly, and Catra’s eyes lit up with something Adora could never recall seeing there before.

It was hope.

Catra put a gentle hand on Adora’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go back there, Adora. You can leave, like I did. Just stay here, or come to Brightmoon. We’ll find a way to keep you safe.” She squeezed her shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to be what Shadow Weaver made you. Don’t let her use you anymore.”

“Use me? You’re the one who just—” Her voice cracked.

“I know,” said Catra, quietly, her eyes dimming. “I’m sorry.”

Adora got up.

She didn’t want to.

She got up because that is what Adora always did. It was what was expected of her. Not getting up was not really a choice at all, and she couldn’t be broken.

Not right now, anyway.

Catra stayed where she was, made no move to stop her.

“I won’t,” said Adora.

Catra looked up at her sharply. “What?”

“I won’t let her use me.”

“Adora—”

“This doesn’t mean I’m on your side.” Adora looked away from Catra’s face. “Or that I trust you.”

She couldn’t trust Catra not to manipulate her again. She couldn’t trust Shadow Weaver to tell her the whole truth. And the sword… the sword was gone.

With no one else to turn to, Adora decided she would have to start trusting herself.

Without another word, without looking back, Adora staggered away from Catra.

Catra let her go. No one and nothing accosted Adora as she found her way to the spot where Scorpia and the large force of Horde soldiers waited, as she ordered them home without having fired a shot.

Scorpia laid a claw on Adora’s shoulder, took one look at the grim expression on her face, and did not say a word.

Adora was silent, lost in thought and memory…

Because Catra had been right: It was bad. It was _all_ bad. It had always been bad, if this was what it felt like to be sacrificed for some vague greater good…

…If this was what Catra had felt when Adora knocked her away from Shadow Weaver in the Black Garnet chamber – it seemed so long ago now.

If this was it, then Adora was exactly the kind of monster she’d been terrified of becoming – a force of destruction, uncontrolled and blind to reason.

She thought maybe now she understood some of Catra’s secrets, some of her anger. She felt it now, too.

Catra had finally shared something with her, finally thrown a door wide for Adora to stare at the secret world of hurt inside.

Adora hated what she saw there.

**

Adora stopped outside the Black Garnet chamber when she returned to the Fright Zone with Scorpia and the unused Horde force. The door was cracked in several places – Adora could imagine a mass of panicked shadows thrusting their way inside after racing across the night sky. She chanced a look through one wide chink and saw the walls of the chamber flooded, as always, with the dim light of the runestones. Before them, she saw the dark figure of Shadow Weaver, small and hunched, her thick hair hanging limp and unmoving over her shoulders. The figure placed one thin hand on the Pearl, another on the Heart Blossom. Multicolored light sparked like chain lightning between all three runestones and threw the figure into greater relief. Adora jumped away from her peep hole as a shriek emanated from the room – part angry, part pained. The light pouring through the cracked door dimmed again, and the shriek dissipated as well, replaced by the sound of a dry chuckle.

_‘I can’t just live in the broken world Shadow Weaver made for me anymore. I had to face her.’_

Adora abandoned the chamber, and went to bed without making her report.

**

When she woke the next morning, curled in her still-too-large bed in her still-too-empty room, Adora realized that, for the first time in a long time, she had slept without dreaming.

Good.

She was done with dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go in this part because Catra needs some more hugs.
> 
> This may give you hope:  
> Part 3 will be almost entirely Adora's POV and is entitled Clarity.


	10. Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this fic has made you too sad, might I humbly direct you towards some fluff I wrote a while back as penance for this fic? There's booze, there's karma, there's power ballads, and it turns out Netossa is the best bouncer for an angst-free zone:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022986/chapters/45177817 
> 
> Anyway, here's the final chapter of this part. Thank you all for reading and commenting - it's been a blast!

Catra stayed kneeling, staring at the broken spot where Adora had crashed into the ground, for a long time.

She jumped, and her fur bristled instinctively, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I was worried,” said Glimmer, “so I came back to check on you.”

“Oh.” Catra dragged herself to her feet, still staring at the rough divot in the ground.

_I didn’t even hear her show up. How does she always manage to sneak up on me?_

“You let her go?” Glimmer asked, quietly.

“I asked her to stay.” Catra took a deep breath and wrenched her gaze away from the dirt. “We got the sword. That’s all we really need, right?”

“Yeah. You should have seen Entrapta’s face when she got her hands on it. She says it’s the most advanced First One’s tech she’s ever seen.” Despite herself, Catra felt the corner of her mouth twitch upwards in a small smile. “And no sword means no She-Ra. You took out the Horde’s heaviest hitter.”

Catra’s stomach sank, and her smile disappeared. “But Shadow Weaver is still out there.”

Glimmer sighed. “The containment spell should have worked – she should have been cut off from the Black Garnet and trapped by the wards around Mystacor.”

“It must be the runestones she stole. Adora said… She’s tapping into their power just like she does with the Black Garnet.” Catra looked up towards the night sky. “She’ll be out for blood, now.”

Glimmer rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll keep you safe, Catra. We won’t let her get to you ever again.”

_But who’s keeping Adora safe?_

Catra flicked an ear. “Yeah, you can just flatten her with another giant ball of light.” She grinned at the princess. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” Glimmer closed her free hand into a fist and brandished it threateningly. “From what you’ve told me, she had it coming.”

“Oh definitely.”

They both chuckled for a moment, then fell into silence again.

“Um, Glimmer…” Catra’s tail twisted uncomfortably.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t really say this before – we were so busy putting everything into place – but… I’m sorry. For all those things I said to hurt you – about you, about your family. And I’m sorry for everything that happened in Dryl. I just… I—”

“Hey, it’s OK.” Glimmer pulled her into a tight hug. “I forgive you.”

Catra slowly let her arms come up to rest on Glimmer’s back. Always before, Catra had met words like that with resentment and derision. Now, with the hole Adora had left in the ground before her and the terror of her childhood fleeing in shredded tendrils through the night air, Catra only felt relieved.  

She felt safe. 

Glimmer pulled away, keeping one hand, light and comforting, on Catra’s arm. “…and… what happened with Adora?” she ventured.

“Adora… doesn’t trust me at all anymore.” Catra let the memory of Adora’s last kiss linger for a moment in her mind before dismissing it somewhere safe and contained, replacing it instead with the determined glint in her eyes as she turned to leave.

_‘I won’t let her use me.’_

Catra rubbed at the brand on her arm, ruffling the fur that made the sign of the Horde nearly illegible. “But I don’t think she trusts Shadow Weaver anymore, either.” Catra lowered her ears.

“Hey,” said Glimmer, “I’m proud of you.”

Catra winced at her unintentional mimicry of Adora. “Don’t say that. All I did was prove that I’m exactly what Shadow Weaver said I am – a liar, a manipulator.”

“No, Catra.” Glimmer’s voice was warm and comforting. “It’s like you said when you came to me with all this after the party yesterday – you don’t have to be what she tried to make you. You can be more – you can be better. You’re more than she expected you to be already.” The princess slid her hand into Catra’s and laced their fingers together. “You’re the kind of person who makes difficult decisions to protect her friends.” She squeezed her hand gently. “You were brave enough to face down the thing that scares you the most for the people you care about – and because it was the right thing to do.”

Catra tried to repress a sniffle.

“So yeah, I’m proud of you.” Glimmer gave her shoulder a nudge. “We all are.” Catra squeezed her hand back in response. “Let’s go back up, huh?”

Catra nodded silently, and savored the warm disintegration of her body as Glimmer teleported them away.

**

The others gave Catra space when she returned to Mystacor – Entrapta was too fully absorbed in studying the sword to ask her any questions, and Bow quietly brought food to her room and left her alone to eat in peace. Catra stretched by her sunlit window and watched the shifting beach below for hours.

It was late afternoon, and Glimmer and Bow had appeared on the beach and begun sunning themselves when a tapping came at Catra’s door.

“Come in,” she called, not moving from her spot in the sun.

She heard the door creak open and several footsteps rustle against the stone floor.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Catra turned at the voice, surprised.

_Why is Castaspella here?_

“Yeah. Sure.”

The head sorceress joined her at the window. “I hope I’m not intruding, but… I wanted to talk with you about Light Spinner… Shadow Weaver, that is.”

Catra brought her legs up to her body and wrapped her tail defensively around her ankles.

_It’s no good avoiding conversations like these._

“OK.” Catra looked out at the beach again.

Castaspella was quiet for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

“She was more than a commanding officer to you?”

“Yeah.” Catra cleared her throat. “I was her ward. She raised me – Adora, too… if you could really call it that.”

“I imagine that your childhood was… difficult?”

“She was always messing with our heads, playing games, looking for power.” Catra turned to look at Castaspella again. “Why are you asking?”

Castaspella brought her hands together, clutching them tightly in front of her. “I want you to know that… My brother Micah – Glimmer’s father – was once a pupil of Light Spinner.”

“What?”                                           

“She sensed great power in him, and she sought to mold it to her own purposes. My brother trusted her, and…” Castaspella sighed. “Luckily he was able to escape her influence while he was still young, but it did take a toll.”

_Adora and I weren’t the first._

Catra looked down towards the beach, where Glimmer and Bow had started throwing sand at each other good-naturedly, running freely as their laughter echoed from the cliff side.

“So Shadow Weaver messed with his head, but he… moved on? He had a life, a family – Angella and Glimmer.”

“Yes.”

Catra looked searchingly into the sorceress’ face. “He was happy?”

Castaspella’s voice trembled slightly. “Yes. Very.”

Catra cast her gaze back to Glimmer and Bow. She inhaled sharply as something rigid and oppressive broke open and dissipated in her chest. Suddenly her life seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her as it never had before, not even when she was racing through the moonlit treetops.

Along with it came an unfamiliar kind of anger – something clean and sharp and focused as the point of Adora’s sword – which rose at the realization that her life should always have felt this free and full of possibility.

_Adora and I will be the last._

**

One week later, Catra presented Adora’s sword to Queen Angella in Brightmoon.

It was a purely ceremonial gesture, and rather a ridiculous one, to Catra’s mind, especially since Entrapta had already been tinkering with the thing for a week and chattering excitedly about her theories on First One’s tech.

Nevertheless, at Glimmer’s insistence, she appeared at Brightmoon on the appointed day and knelt before the Queen, offering up the sword.

“Catra,” intoned the Queen, “On behalf of Brightmoon and all the Rebellion, I thank you for your deeds in Mystacor.” Angella took the proffered sword from Catra’s outstretched hands, and Catra thought that would be the end of it, but the Queen kept talking. “And, if you will accept it, I would like to award you a token of our appreciation.”

Catra looked up, confused. “Huh?”

Glimmer, standing next to her mother in what Catra in that moment realized was some kind of formal, ceremonial armor – in fact, _everyone_ gathered there was in formal regalia – whispered to her between clenched teeth. “Just shut up and listen for once will you?”

“OK…”

Angella smiled. “For your bravery and cunning, I would like to promote you to the Rebellion’s highest rank – you will lead alongside my own daughter.”

Catra looked at Angella sharply. She understood the chance Angella was taking, making this offer so publicly, in front of the entire Princess Alliance and the movers and shakers of Brightmoon. She was asking Catra to commit to the Rebellion, no going back.

She had to know that Catra could very well refuse.

“Do you accept?”

The entire throne room was deathly silent, waiting for Catra’s answer. Glimmer was looking at her with intense, hopeful anticipation.

_They want me here._

_I can be so much more than what Shadow Weaver made me._

“I accept.”

Angella spread her wings impressively. “Then rise Catra, Commander of the Rebellion and Guardian of Brightmoon.”

As Catra rose shakily to her feet, Glimmer and Bow rushed forward to sweep her into a hug. Catra stiffened for a moment before relaxing into their embrace, only to startle slightly as Angella’s wings settled around all three of them.

Bow broke from the group first and produced something from a pouch tied to his quiver. “Here Catra, I made you something. It’s not a tiara, but I think it’s definitely your style.”

He handed her a light, rounded piece of metal, deep purple in hue – a new headguard.

“Do you like it?”

She turned it over in her hands, running her fingers over the smooth curve, and settled the guard over her brow. “It’s perfect.”

**

That night, when she was finally able to slink away from the raucous festivities following the ceremony, Catra slipped into the Whispering Woods to collect her thoughts. She found a particularly tall tree and perched in the thin, waving branches at its crown. Before her stretched a vast swath of woods, and, in the far distance, several moons rose over the crags and sickly industrial lights of the Fright Zone. She stared out at that putrid horizon like some distorted reflection of her younger self looking towards the Whispering Woods and wondering what was out there.

She knew all too well what was in the Fright Zone, and who was still there.

She was worried about Adora. She thought of the tears that had beaded in the corners of Adora’s eyes as she told Catra how the pressure of her life was breaking her.

_She asked for my help._

Struggling to survive as she had always been in the Horde, Catra had never really seen that Adora was just as trapped as she was – that Shadow Weaver had played them both against each other so that they trapped each other.

Shadow Weaver had made them weak together when they should have been strong.

But Adora had doubts, now. Catra had seen that. Despite Shadow Weaver’s interference with She-Ra, with her dreams, Adora was starting to accept that her life did not quite add up. Now that she was on her own, she was finally starting to see the truth.

It stung, a little, that Catra couldn’t be the one to show Adora the truth – time and experience had shown that she would have to figure it out on her own. Catra could live with that, for now, if it meant Adora might finally be able to free herself – if one day the two of them might find a way to be strong together.

In the meantime, Catra would find a way to help her – _somehow_.

Catra lifted her face to the sky, let the breeze ruffle her hair around the new headguard, and she spoke a promise aloud to the trees, the moons, the night air.

“I won’t give up on you, Adora.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be on the lookout for Part 3 - Clarity. I hope to have it up... soonish after Season 3? It's going to be shorter than this part, so hopefully it won't take me forever to write it.  
> Also - and I promise this to you with every fiber of my being - there will be some honest-to-god, actual, legit fluff in Part 3. 
> 
> See you all on the other side of Season 3.


End file.
